Picture a scene: Catholic School, circa 1987. In a well-ordered classroom full of future secretaries ...

"Hey, Ceecee." Rodrigo squatted on our three step stoop every morning, flanked by pit bulls with wide black smiles puffing steam. I jogged down the steps, leaned against a parking sign. Warmed my hands with my breath. Tugged my crop top down. "Girl, you gonna…

It's one of those raw, wrung out Yonge Street Saturday mornings. The smog-gray sky is just congealing into blue over the buildings and concrete.

It is no easy thing getting noticed on Las Ramblas.

“Why won't you let me watch you?”My stomach twisted with anxiety at his question, but also with excitement. Tim, my boyfriend of a year and a half, lathered soap on my back as we stood under the hot shower spray. He loved these post-sex showers as much as I…

His girlfriend's probably surfing somewhere in California right now. She is an astrophysicist and a veteran and a triathlete, but she's never been up in space, like he is now, in a failing spacecraft. He knows it's failing by the way the engine sounds, like…

Once, when I fucked Tinkerbell, thirty glowing lights sprang to life in the dark static air of the by-the-hour motel room. They were new fairies I'd brought to life with each thrust. "I feel like someone's watching," I said, unsure I could continue, but Tink said,…

New Year’s day was my brother’s third wedding, and people gathered in the Memorial Garden, up the path above the main part of the camp. My mother, Terri, Quebec, and Quebec's daughter, Judy — who was Catholic and just visiting, and who wouldn't go o

So I wrote you a poem Sorry if it’s geeky and weird But I’m not your traditional guy I mean I can’t even grow a beard

And as he looked at the departing pink cushion in his rear-view mirror (shaped like a canoe without the paddles), the latest big question popped into his mind like a hot slice of buttered brown bread from his shiny, metallic stainless steel toaster –

The woman returns from the store with an armload of books. She reads them quickly, one by one, over the course of the next few weeks. But when she opens the last one, the woman frowns in surprise. All the pages in the book are blank. Every single one.

Why was the broom late for work?

He reappeared in spring, some Sunday morning, perhaps Easter, when the twigs of the catalpa trees budded and lawns smelled of mud and breaking seeds.

"She gave me a "you're fucking stupid, kid" look and handed me a of cigarettes. It was all downhill from there."

Mr. Dorn finishes the song and stands holding his penis, looking amazed, as if penises had just been invented and he'd been asked to try this one out for size.