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Some women, it is said, like to fuck.
This book--The I Hate to Fuck Book--is not for them.
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She walks alone in black high heels
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"You," he says, "Sit in here."
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She wonders if Minh knows fear, if it is something that forms in the womb, like fingernails.
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Once you start telling the truth it's hard to quit. You look around and reasons are everywhere. It's like a new appliance, truth-telling, a can opener that's so good you barely have to turn it.On the phone my sister asks me why I don't come out and see her in San…
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It was one of those incredible literary coincidences destined to reside in Wiki annals forever.
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I didn’t hear that Duncan Pratt had been killed until I’d been out of the Army for two weeks and had gone four days without a single thought about that final year in Vietnam.
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... must we turn again (and again)/
to an orchestra stripped of wind and drum?
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A girl stretched out on the long backseat of the Greyhound bus, her head resting on a bright pink overnight case decorated with colorful stickers announcing the places she intends to go: Paris Cairo Hong Kong Rome.
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They live on the edge of town. There is a cornfield behind their house. When the wind blows, it is like the hands of many children clapping.
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It is late in the twentieth century and I'm on my hands and knees for you.
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She said she wanted to find a man who could appreciate a woman who gave great head.
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Ok so oops. I messed that up. I made it sexual when it was sweet. Oops. I swear it was the beer. Ok I lie. I always lie.
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That's what these companies do: swallow you whole and spit you out.
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The repair man is conscientious in this as he is with all things, light with his fingers and his tongue. His hair falls over his eyes as he works her.
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The boys' mother lived in a house two lawns from his, but she wouldn't bring him ice packs; she had her period, she said.
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Walking to work, Lawrence Settler was struck by a bus as he crossed a one-way street.
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The world moves its roving glass eye around in front of you like a dog trying to flip over a frisbee, as if trying to show you how the loveliness of all things here and yet there, from an anything goes, different, always shifting,…
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She made them all watch ``Oceans Eleven'', even the baby...
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I write to you from waiting for the world to end. I will leave this in a desk drawer.
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is all but invisible. Some say this is because it is within a bakery window, a bakery within a bakery window,and thus appears to be everywhere at once.The cake for God has never been eaten, except by children who seem to later forget what it tasted…
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Madame Fauve, / with a twisted braid, is dancing.
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When Uncle Dan got sent to the Alzheimer's ward, the ladies licked their lips. Fresh meat.
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The story begins ... There were no pigs' huts of straw or stick or stone.
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After the shooting, they sent the boy away. He returned taller and heavier, a sulkier version of his earlier self.
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On the Nightly News a pedophile in an orange jumpsuit does a sashay of shame in front of a wolf pack of cameras and satellite feeds that surround the downtown courthouse. At the bar, a woman with big blonde hair and a rhinestone manicure says off with his head. A…
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"In the camps we ate whatever garbage they gave us." This according to my mother. "We had no choice." But I had eaten pig with gusto at an anti-Semite's table. Somehow this had to be undone. Burial in soil was all I could imagine.
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I admired her stamina. Her ability to Charlie Sheen it night after night.
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