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We entertained each other and stuck our fingers in each others’ cakes and pies and pulled them out licking them while looking at each other. I was light with youth in a white summer dress, swinging my shoe as it dangled off the tip of my toes, rubbing m
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1713147
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a bird who gives messages
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The night she left she claimed she fucked Bukowski.
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In September of that year, our neighbor Wayne had this idea that he could get rich by selling groceries Amway-style, and he booted his 12-year-old boy out of his own bedroom and put up shelves loaded with packages of spaghetti, cans of roast beef, soda po
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Her husband wouldn’t let her call an exterminator. That doesn't work, he said. The real reason he said no was that he was cheap.
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A dark-haired, handsome man adjusted the headset he was wearing, leaned toward a microphone, and eyed his host, a curly-haired man with a toothy grin, who sat up straight as he received a cue from his producer.
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The night before leaving, we have French toast and red wine in Matthew's kitchen, our packs and sleeping bags and tents surrounding us, looming like golems. Because we're nervous, and a little drunk, the conversation inevitably turns to grammar. "I'm sure I learned…
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I got kicked out of a soup and salad place last week for trying to buy a large soda so I could sit and eat my sack lunch there while I read “Love’s Desperate Creatures” by Dorothy Danville. Have you read it? Its great. I’ll give it to you when I’m done
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Columbus Avenue, I’m the tense union of poor city rich city/
gentrification.
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Soon the world is on film that is burning.
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The woman carried a wooden log which was her husband into the house.
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Sometimes you're searching for a family and you don't even know it. Sometimes a family finds you.
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Every night famous authors read not only to us, but to a duck. A wild female who emerged from the lake just as we were gathering, settled her gray-brown feathers down not three feet from the podium, tucked her head inside her wing, and remained there. If the duck liked…
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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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Vito sat alone on a bench, hunched over, staring at his running shoes. He wasn't having fun. The club wasn't nearly as crowded as usual. There were no outlandishly-dressed or made-up people present. Most in attendance were huddled directly before the band
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Together at last, we'd gotten this far toward the warm end of those sweet Promises we made, once, with our sincerest written and passed down smart Words, done all on our own deeds, with some real gusto, and offered them as Christmas Lights,…
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She offers the girl a seat, asks her to stay for a minute, but she can’t, she just came by to say hello, and don’t you like my new raincoat?
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Maybe in some lie you told, your life began making sense. Not mine. But your quiet beauty may be what carries you. We have to both quit eating Couch Potato Chips, and read the book Tender Is the Squid, instead. Your ghosts – they’re so soft and sensitive.
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I hoped I did not look as panicked as I tried not to feel.
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I tried to talk, but only / whispers slithered out.
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I wanted daddy to stop for ice cream, but I didn't want to say so. I wanted him to stop by himself, or because somebody else asked him. If I asked him Delia would make fun of me.
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whistling some blithering tune, trotting around the kitchen in his underwear with his ribs, a long row of meatless tragedies that screamed for something other than the meal he was making.
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but at least I wasn't drinking as much anymore.
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“We’re on our way to gold country to find the American Dream.” No point in mentioning the huge prairie dogs, the ones swarming and screeching beneath the horses in their Hell’s Angel gear and Nixon masks.
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My tongue lashes out like a whip.
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Ben tossed the newspaper aside, muttering. Carol, curled up on the sofa, peered past the glasses at the tip of her nose and past the crossword puzzle.
"What?"
"The Brits wanted to fight rather than be taken hostage. They had an escort boat ridin
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My half-brother Salvy laughs each time we meet here at the hospital to visit our father Phil, who has lung cancer. He laughs because Phil married my mother, not his. He laughs at my job in Valhalla, the final resting place for those who lose at the…
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Things aren't going to get better are they? Would you like a sugar cube? No. Are you sure? I put acid on it. Oh, well yes, I guess then. Cool. Things might get better for a little bit then. Or horribly worse. Ha. Awesome. They taste like an orgasm…
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Caster had always imagined the Consensus as a big room, as big as the world, filled with white space and people with quantum wings, flitting about, creating information. There were tinted bubbles for people to share for privacy, and the lights never went
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This is what we will remember of each other. Right here. Another night where we prepare ourselves, as the full moon rises through the murky blue and smoke-filled sky, where the rose mist simmers above the land. And you are out there, somewhere. Only our
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