1505 12 11
|
I was having festive sex flashbacks and wasn't thinking sharply.
|
97051
|
no rule says an imaginary friend has to be a good one
|
95300
|
|
1049128
|
His eyes are closed yet restless, as if too many thoughts loop beneath the lids.
|
98921
|
Love is easy. Lazy. Fickle.
|
108998
|
Incidents intensified. The Dead appeared in twos and threes at shopping mall and Wal-Mart parking lots.
|
95421
|
He kept one scarf. It was the scarf that she would tie around his eyes to play with him, long, until he was in his teens. A silly game that made her happy and he squirmed with delight until he got too old. She did not want him to see her, only to know if
|
7571211
|
|
15682018
|
They are all sleeping, but I know better. I will keep watch and if he comes tonight I will be alert and ready. When he arrives he'll see the slack mouths, the graceless sprawls, hear the grunts, snorts and snores of the other women and then he'll sense me. My eyes will…
|
18183324
|
No one explained triumph
would feel like this.
|
73122
|
|
8981615
|
|
132764
|
|
115832
|
To him the younger women, contemporaries of the bride, all sounded as if they were breathing helium.
|
125495
|
as distant lights
all must shiver
before joining in
a Milky Way river
|
83311
|
Deep in Stationcity they began to drum.
|
133777
|
|
86011
|
City cars packed with eyes
|
12601211
|
It is almost as if there isn’t a wedge of wood between us – I can feel him inches away from me. I can’t control the sigh or the tears that escape my body.
|
9851011
|
|
138854
|
It was Brad, for short; or so he would say. But really his name was Bradford, and he was a writer. He had almost always lived in New York. He was only half-white. His mother had run away with a black man in the sixties. Her father had told her to never come back to…
|
10401110
|
Back then we used to dance slowly to Sam Cooke's “You Send Me” on your parquet floors, whispering about planting our vegetable garden, planning to seed the lawn with centipede grass, promising to count all the red cars that came down the street.
|
95875
|
One day, Dasha confessed to Igor that she had an incurable illness: Purple emptiness.
|
126577
|
My skin tells a story of pain and labor. It’s better than a tattoo and cheaper.
|
142755
|
“Dear, baby, what do you fear?”
Or maybe it was, “Now here are the keys to the lock.”
|
13822118
|
After the funeral there was a luncheon in the church basement.
|
101622
|
In frustration, he picked up a hammer and slammed it straight into the center of the mask.
|
14953620
|
|
99097
|
I COULD always sleep. Go "home" now and sleep. My body and my fetus—who complain of this torture—would appreciate sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have to try to wake.
|
21301615
|
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