2167 8 5
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As long as he could still take the stairs, he would go down there to be with the memories that each piece held. He knew that their time was about up, because his was too. His wife had already gone, and even before that she had long stopped using the washe
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2167169
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Sometimes you can't sleep.
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21671613
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no one likes a bitchy cowboyhike up yer britchespull yer brim down'nshut up and ridestop making petsout of peevesand idolsout of gossipinsteadmake a hobbyout of yer horseand fer godsakesseason that saddle
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216773
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Already, I can see that, whenever Harold moves, some of his soul escapes, like an accidental exhalation, like breath on powder.
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216611
|
. . . hands before your face, heart without blood . . .
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21651915
|
as long as you have some snacks up there
I can be brave
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216541
|
Approaching the kitchen from the foyer the reverb lessened until heel and floor where flint on flint. No spark was made.
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216584
|
... we both know how we go to fresh air like fish, gasping.
|
216532
|
He wasn’t there for the beginning or the end. In the beginning, he was still a wild thing. Nothing more than a voice in the chorus of the Dark Continent, back when it was a thing of terrible beauty and attracted people like the old man; people who breathe
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216542
|
When you finally got blood from the hard stick
You spotted the backflash of red
And said Thank God. The woman’s legs and arms
Were everywhere, and you were in the middle
Holding her down with one hand while wielding
A butterfly in the other. You stuc
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216485
|
I ask for your patience with this form message, as it is part of a system that ensures
every submissive ex lover is considered separately, since I am involved in a lot of anonymous sex.
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2164206
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The book has known many women’s hands, something erotic and frequently checked out from our local library. Its cover depicts a man and a woman, both with improbable if not impossible bodies. I believe the term is bodice-ripper.
|
216455
|
|
216443
|
...I grew up in a provincial town which at the time had no bookstore and no library — no library even at school...
|
216342
|
Here’s the story as compiled from the scantest of clues: The writing on the back of a stall door in the restroom of a twenty-four hour restaurant under the Gowanus Expressway.
|
216364
|
I put my arms around her and whisper to her while she plays the piano. She wiggles and tells me to stop it.
|
216300
|
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216322
|
That's when we struggle, got it? Right there on the floor. It's not the brawl of the century, and I'm not the pilot who delivers the Enola Gay.
|
216300
|
They got out wearing their crisp brown Army jackets and khaki pants; she saw the cross on the lapel of the officer's shirt and just knew. These men brought sad news from faraway places.
|
216322
|
Why is the ghost of John Lennon haunting a house in rural Oregon?
|
216385
|
I could love them all, your people, /
Learn their differences, speak their tongues, /
When there is no one there to hold you /
But me, my arms would be wide enough /
To hold armies of your need. Do not forget.
|
2162105
|
I scare my daughter when she sleeps because she thinks I'm going to kill her.
|
2162108
|
"good luck, and be assured acceptance for representation or publication is based on different criteria at different agencies and we are sure you will yet find someone mentally deficient enough to give your book a shot."
|
216254
|
You can’t take a chandelier on an emergency dash across a nuclear desert.
|
2162133
|
The two were huddled in a corner of an alley, joined by some others that I’m sure wandered into the darkness when they realized they were far from alone. That alley was the one off Market Street. I used to steal candy from the corner shop when I was nin
|
216282
|
My dad drove a Model A Roadster
and had a photo taken of him on a hunting trip up in Wisconsin
with one leather boot up on the running board
and a .22 caliber pistol in his hand
like Ernest Hemingway and Clark Gable rolled into one
My dad ro
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216286
|
no one else comes in my back door but you
|
216286
|
His middle name was Perceval. He judged the first Miss America contest in 1922. He saw himself primarily as a storyteller in the Dickensian mode.He claimed to be an illustrator rather than an artist. He disliked driving but loved to walk, and preferred…
|
216222
|
There are worse things than getting your ass kicked by a 12 year old Puerto Rican kid. This was exactly my thinking as he stood over me, his pre-pubescent screams sounding like a baby Bruce Lee, preparing to finish me off.
|
2161255
|
" Not a day goes by/ that isn't stabbed with common sorrow"--Maurice Manning Crazy's alright by me if it's a harmless plea for some little sanity, or unavoidable by birth but it just won't do for tricks. Like say I go over there right…
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