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This is a lady who never got a break.

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I went with Dale Stack to drown a cat on a fading summer afternoon.

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Before the Door

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I peeled his tongue, word by contemptuous word, until he had nothing left but a scrappy shred of muscle flapping in his empty head...

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There's a story of you who says to go on, to walk the room, to pretend to contemplate. Promises that if you lift your hand your head will follow. Assures you when your bones reignite there will be day, there will be night, and you'll know which is which. Don't worry about…

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The painting was on loan from a gallery in Chicago. We stood there connecting the dots.

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... “All power is just behind your belly. Look. Knot of belt – just in front of navel – navel is eye of chi.” ...

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My mother was a child of the death camps, passed her adolescence there. Survived.

Summer Girl

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You’re bro­ken. Your eyes don’t see quite right, and your hands don’t feel quick enough. I love you any­way.

The Last Story

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The serious writer always knew there would be a last story but when the time came, he felt ill-prepared.

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The Hair and The Whore

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Every time they said Gloria I turned around but of course they meant Gloria Steinem.

I Must Slip The Batman a Fin

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Two nights before his heart burst its strings near sundown Shabbat, we met at my house to wait for paint to dry. We could make an evening of that.

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"And I listened, too, sitting at the table with him with my palms on my chin and my fingers on my face ‘cause I love listening to my man talking about why he loves me."

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It had been so long since the telephone had rung, he’d forgotten the sound.

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