I don’t see the problem. In the country I come from, language is the best part of the game.

He pounds the roof of the Pontiac with the side of his fist and it rumbles like a timpani. He raises his head to light and wipes the sweat from his forehead. There's no sense in fighting it. He will go back and knock on Peter's door.

An eternity in a crashing moment.

I was thinking that the feminists pounding the city pavement had increased rent with every footstep, not that I was not one, but we had not earned our money at it or put our money together.

The mud slicks at low tide were a mood.Thick gobs that smelled of fish, sulfur and claysalt and wild seaweed like fungusmoldy like left out fruityet it drew her closerto the shorelinecloser to feelingit between her toesthick, squirtsas her feet liftedlike a suction cupand…

After President Trump was elected, my first impulse was to spend the next four years cowering under the bed, whimpering.While I knew that I needed to keep track of what our new commander in chief was up to, watching the news made me too angry and too sad and just too…

The investigator starts by accumulating facts, as many facts as he can. He sifts through them with meticulous precision, leaving no leaf unturned, no page unread.

You did it, like, "Oh, there's a train wreck... I can't look away from the tall, leggy brunette with salon styled hair." And we both know it was certainly Armageddon whenever a woman, any woman, with large breasts which encountered a low cut top.

.

As a young baby, perhaps a year old, I have a memory of sitting on myfathers lap, in front of a coal stove to keep us warm, while my mothercooked soft boiled eggs for him every morning. He would break offa piece of his toast, dip it in the egg, and feed it to…

Do you want this, you ask, and hand me a blue silk shirt of hers with small yellow flowers. I'm afraid to say no, in case it makes you remember all over again.

Let it rage. I shall not suppress you. Let your rage speak to you of the sorrow it hides, until your sadness swallows you whole.

It was entirely my fault, misreading signals. I have a clumsy imagination, mistook your gushing about my boobs as a soul connection. Then you said something about us being lovers in a past life, and I remembered Bobby Bubion from high school, his strategy for…

A delicate thrill buzzed my face.

I know you, ladies and gentlemen We see the near future through you Your factual face as you sit indoors Youthless In your ordinary chair "Mice run through their vision Mice run through