1971 11 11
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Born in 1954, I identify as a Baby Boomer. But what does that mean, really? Who exactly are we Boomers? And how does the world see us? I decided to perform a quick Google Search and find out. I typed in the phrase “Boomers Are…” Here's…
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197100
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While Erik rubs my back, I fall asleep. I'm not lying on my bed in Florida - I'm face down on the pavement outside Brooklyn Pharmacy. And it's not Erik's hand smoothing oil of cassis into my skin, but that Officer Green's meaty one gripping me . . .
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1971189
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I don’t name the dog but the fish requires a name. Animals that do not get eaten must be named. The dog is still on the menu.
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197110
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They’d met by sheer accident.
Torrential rain & a deserted bungalow were the perfect catalysts.
‘You shouldn’t be alone at this hour’ Kurt whispered.
‘It’s not by design’ Ursula murmured.
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19712112
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She could live there forever, in that smokey memory...
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197020
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Whenever I hear Adam Sandler's song, “My Piece of Shit Car”, it brings back memories. Notice I don't say fond memories. It brings me back just like the really bad backwash regurgitation flavor…
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19701414
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No one means to go that way, on an errand to the mall....
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197032
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Even in the brief flickers where your eyes and nose are visible you look gelatinous. Like a forgotten traveler suctioned to the side of an immersion tank. Am I sick because this bizarre spectacle is irresistible to me?
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197042
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But I am delighted to inform you that through our computer added softwareness, YOU have to been chosen as our Nigerian contact for the transfer of fundage used to research global warming. How ‘bout them apples?
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1969106
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Maybe we all met, somewhere, in between streets.
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196811
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"How did you know he was a nobody if you didn't look at him, eh? Did you raise your eyes and look him in the face? Are you my wife or a whore?"
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1968146
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The winter following their son's death, Mr. Kelly's wife became absorbed by the tracks that ran in back of their house. At any given hour in the night, he'd hear her in the next room, their son's old room where she now slept, shuffling through dresser drawers. He…
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196797
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"...across from me
staring at my bare knees."
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1967138
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I want nothing to do with anyone,
other than doing nothing with you.
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1967117
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The store was closing for good, and so I purchased a book of poems by Cavafy,
that poet of ruins and tombstones, and fragments from disintegration.
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196773
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The child could hear frogs chorusing outside and she wanted to listen only to that. Inside her grandfather gasped for air and she tried to keep her eyes normal as he smiled at her and put the mask back on. She did not want him to see how much she felt like running…
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19671712
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The Gothic-filigreed gate creaks as a guard closes it behind the little girl in the ruffled dress. Standing there in the morning fog, on the sidewalk outside the reform school, she looks remarkably like Shirley Temple. Dimpled, chubby face. Pretty, party dress. Her…
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196664
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I put my arms around her and whisper to her while she plays the piano. She wiggles and tells me to stop it.
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19661511
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For one glittering moment
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1966109
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We were young, she said, it was all in front of us. We should never have settled for this.
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196653
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Excessively. And this worried her, of course.
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19661511
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When we're near, there is a black cloud, such as Sylvia Plath described in her unabridged journal, that semi-appeared in her rental cottage where she and Ted Hughes lived in Cornwall. The cloud filled the center of the room where she sat alone.
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19662110
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He grew red-faced at her quiet words, "I'm pregnant."
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196675
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Pow! I shoot him through his jelly donut.
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196500
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Brandon had never liked standing in line; it was a childish tendency he had never grown out of. What likely annoyed him the most was likely the stillness, the lack of motion despite everyone else's insistence that they were getting somewhere. And it was slow, too,…
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196563
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She followed the husband. He headed north on seventy two for twelve miles, turned off at exit eighty seven b, slowed, turned, backed into a spot at a convenience store slash gas station, lights on, engine running. Precisely twenty seven minutes by her count,…
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19641711
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I fired God today. He wasn't showing up for work, slept through meetings, wrote ambiguous memos and killed too many innocents. Things just weren't working out.
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196455
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The story will starve. It will crawl up your throat to get the cracker.
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196420
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. . . not if I have anything to do with it.
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196401
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Luther Mishmash stood numbly in the yard, dumbly staring at the soiled pair of underpants flapping lazily in the breeze on the wash line. Grandpa had wet himself again. Tomorrow, at school, he knew he’d hear about it. Luther wasn’t sure which was more
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