2103 6 0
|
Maybelline Jones is my sister, my friend, and I try to tell her the right way to be.
|
2103 15 12
|
Flexeril and Hydrocodon... For my back
|
2103 11 4
|
My name is Wanda McClure and I lived in the foothills of Eastern Kentucky. A small town miles off the interchange, and mostly in the middle of nowhere. I lived in a trailer. I was 52 years old.
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2103 15 7
|
“Black is up, red is down,” I said, knowing he turned to pleasant memories of lawbreaking when he felt discouraged. I asked him to meet me for coffee. He said he hadn’t bought a coffee in a year.
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2102 28 12
|
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2102 11 9
|
Dude -- I DON'T want to date your boat!
|
2101 6 4
|
"...if Rosie O'Donnell were to attach a horn to her forehead, she'd move up the ranks as the deadliest creature in the world."
|
2101 14 10
|
I can never tell if he’s drunk or using some sort of substance or if perhaps his brain just doesn’t fire at the pace that we have come to accept as normal.
|
2100 1 1
|
Let's be honest. Ugly people have an uphill battle in this culture. From the time they slide out of their ugly mothers they stand at the plate with two strikes.
|
2100 3 2
|
I decided this time I’m going right to the end.
|
2099 35 14
|
AFTER DINNER Another cycle gone, wasted. She stares into her bowl of full-fat ice cream (just half a cup a day, every day, for fertility). Beside her sits her husband, building a sundae. When he's done she reaches over, picks the cherry off the top, and hurls it into the…
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2099 8 5
|
You may gather from me
the spring of my youth
|
2098 1 1
|
"Geez," I thought, "not only is this daredevil felon fellow my EXACT height and build — his co-conspiring gal-pal must be, too!" I exhaled what felt like a gallon’s worth of air though my nose. "This is just getting too fucking weird ..."
|
2098 0 0
|
“Why have you not voted Mindeo”, Tidi squeaked. “Because there is a third way. If we stay only here, we will eventually be driven out. To attack the erect worms to extend our…
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2098 9 6
|
I realized something must be terribly wrong.
|
2098 14 4
|
He had the cannonball head of Hemingway, the stump neck, sloping shoulders and barrel chest.
|
2098 1 1
|
Pushing his jeans down around his ankles, he knelt, and pressed his moist dipstick against my hole. “Do you always do this on a first date?” he said
|
2097 6 5
|
Because it seems never to be beginning, always picking up in the middle with it’s long resonant tones, which themselves begin as if they’ve always been. Maybe that’s why we love old, sacred music. And by we I, of course, mean my two-year-old Charlie and m
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2097 25 13
|
I was sitting on the therapist’s couch in someone else’s boxer shorts.
|
2097 0 0
|
The next day, John's kneecaps looked like Tennessee Pride Real Country Sausage. The bandage on his head kept coming loose, having to be tucked in, and he was suffering the Stone Mountain of hangovers.
|
2096 1 1
|
Light was always fucking with you in LA, especially in the afternoon where it possessed a golden hue that could knock you over if you weren’t careful. Its beauty reminded you of what you lacked.
|
2096 9 6
|
Schrödinger did not keep cats about just by accident, and were they keeping an eye on him!
|
2096 20 13
|
A tiny story, 55 words, just enough to fit on a . . .
|
2095 8 3
|
Was I a dreamer? Was I asking for too much?
|
2095 5 4
|
“I don’t see how anybody could do it.”
“I could do it. I could do it because it ought to be done. When a thing needs doing, it’s best to go on and do it.”
|
2095 12 10
|
I would love to believe
that this poem
might sell a poetry book
|
2094 19 3
|
"And you’ll forgive my sayin’, your Maggie’s in heat, and if ya want to keep her you’re gonna ‘ave to fight. To be sure after this they’ll leave ya alone.”
|
2093 6 5
|
She believes that this started with a phone call when she walked out of the deli yesterday. She believes that it started when it was snowing this morning in Brooklyn, waiting for her car to arrive, but the truth is, this journey began a long time ago.
|
2093 23 18
|
a poem about an abduction in my NYC neighborhood
|
2092 12 8
|
The juice that stays on my neck when you tip me back, catching me in an alleyway, holding me upright as the oranges tumble and strike the backs of my knees. You cup your strong-smelling, sticky-soft fingers around my ear and say let's blow this city.
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