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Fifty-One

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Several friends—hers and his—hung around the edges of their marriage, and it would be naive to rule out the possibility of a few stray affairs. The thought didn’t anger him; on the contrary it amused him as if it were some trivia question, the answe

Puerility

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--So, why are you here?

One Black Wheel

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"..squeezing her eyes and mouth tightly."

Round the World Now

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It's true that he had always been more pure than her, looking for the authentic experience, authentic food. And more adventurous. Blogging their way around the world, yes, that had been his idea . . .

boardwalk

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coast to coast

Her Head Sounserals Away

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"Bortne! Bortne! Shushort!" she exclaims, shooting her hands over her wobbly head in pleasure, causing it to again pop off. This time, it's a three story drop from a balcony. Terrified, he yells "Sneeeeew nuuuu! Oh nee padoooo!"

The Unknowable

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He’d tossed and turned all night, pondering what to do, afraid she was living alone. He’d decided to email her two words: “Love you” and signed it “Scary Sal,” as she’d always seemed so afraid of him.

The Imprint of Necessity

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I’ll tell you what I think, I think Their hopes of a brush with love Is what keeps the simple cricket Awake all night If you find a baby cricket on its back Fallen on the sidewalk Struggling with its legs In the air Help it to its fee

Today It Rains

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I chose coming away because here at least I feel good — and it makes me feel I am growing very tall and straight inside — and very still — Maybe you will not love me for it — but for me it seems to be the best…

Picking Strawberries

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Underneath the fence she picked strawberriesThey were nickle sizedand some were red, some were green and some with a littleof both/in between They came up from the ground in little patchesand sweetness could be smelled on the windAs the cloud cover came…

The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

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Now your dreams are headed for the Rhyme or Reason Convention where they try to convince you you can do this Trying to make sense of everything

Go Wild

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Sometimes you have to go wild; you have just to go fucking nuts. You do.

The Sky Just Now

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has somehow gotten off its swaddled behind and put on its next new face, your own dipped in glass, of many green eyes for simple fair measure , lifting up my own morning lids with softly pulsating …

Sunny Side

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I was so used to the silence of late summer afternoons, when I could roll my hoop through the empty, sunlit piazzas without meeting another shadow, that at first I mistook the footsteps for the beat of a metronome spilling through an open window.

Ink Play

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Lying on a high seat in the south study, this is what I see:

Homonyms

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Ascent/Assent Together the horizon/ Catechism of love

What She Thought It Was

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She refuses to let her eyes cry. Her eyes played tricks on her and showed her one thing was really another. They don't deserve to cry.

~blackbird~

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^ through a busted window in this desert…

The Lonely Snake

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A solitary snake, his belly full, stretched out in the sun. His uncoiling swept sand and small rocks to the left and right. Ah, he thought, I have the power to move mountains from my path. See how the lowly earth makes way for my comfort.

My Father Said, "I Miss the Game."

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Of course he misses it,

Cricket Box

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Tonight the autumn air is clear and still. There is no frost to compare to moonbeams; no wind carries lotus fragrance or rustles maple leaves.

Henny Penny On Why She Crossed the Road

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Ok, ok, people are forever asking me, so why did I cross the frickin’ road? Dumb-shit me, of course. Consequences waaay unforseen.

This is Why Your Choice of Music Matters

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Once there was a real honest to God holy spirit out there that was a gift of kindness for everyone, unfortunately given to all the wrong people, or the wrong people simply stole it. Either way the wrong people are still the same ones among us now who so…

The Silence in your Silence

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.

Flipper Avoids the Tuna Can

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I used to sneak away to my bedroom to write. I would get away any chance I could to jot down on paper my stories, my ideas, the rich stream of goodness that sprang from my little baby creative brain. It was pure joy.

Three Sundays at The Grove

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Now, gazing into Greg’s expectant eyes, the only Chinese word Deepti could summon was kuei. Ghost. Before that summer, her mother flipped through the pages of Maxine Hong Kingston’s memoir every day, as if she could glean magic from the touch of her finge

The Comedian

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Sitting near her desk, like a dunce cap, red

Thessaloniki Summer Visit

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What I learned/one summer/in the North East/Thessaloniki heat was. . . .

Drinking the Wild Virgin

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I really think we ought to be drinking The Wild Virgin again I remember having a beer once And feeling like a minor god, yes Just like you did So, now, listen to me: if she snores all night That’s one thing But if she screws the lights out

sunset pleadings

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fade away glorious, golden delicious