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3 Short Shorts

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When he tried to kiss her, she ran to the bathroom to throw up.

Due to the volume of submissions

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Somebody pushed the automatic fuck-you button today, not the due-to-the-volume-of-submissions-we-receive button, nor the it-does-not-fit-our-editorial-needs button;

Woman, Running Late, in a Dress

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Gasps and shouts, a hand on my arm, sequined gowns and expensive colognes parting before me. And then, there, Raymond’s crumpled form on the hardwood floor of the foyer, like a sleeve torn from a jacket, the stitches frayed and useless.

What's Eating William Gass?

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Sometime in the 60s a philosophy teacher named William H. Gass was writing a novel. He had it about where he wanted it when someone stole the manuscript from his car.

Fiancée

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We walk to the Narrows from the boutique, fortified by talk of men and fashion. The Narrows is a blues bar known for outbreaks of small violence. I am wearing the winter white swing coat I bought for the wedding and the gold and turquoise beads.

Gasp and Dash

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I took a deep breath and turned the key. I pushed the door open just far enough to see. I backed out, closed the door and turned the key again. I walked to my car, knelt down and placed in front of the right front tire the little box with the holes in it that held the…

Cactus

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I counted telephone poles and the seconds between them. The old highway cut straight through the sand and it seemed the road would never end. No curves. No hills. Just poles.

The moon rose up on its tinfoil bed

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and floated along withus like it was attachedwith a string. I thought thatmeant we had a boat incase of emergenciesbut she said it was sadto see it followingin our wake like a cork.I still think it looked everybit the stylish silver-capped swimmer doingthe…

The Serious Writer Occupies Wall Street

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When thinking of the commotion surrounding Wall Street, the serious writer gets very upset.

The Palatski Man

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He reappeared in spring, some Sunday morning, perhaps Easter, when the twigs of the catalpa trees budded and lawns smelled of mud and breaking seeds.

Wrestling with Genetics

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I know he's an accident waiting to happen.

Cahiers du Cinéma

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Hours later, we fell out of a helicopter like hunchbacked wingless birds.

Wake Up

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Mr. Dorn finishes the song and stands holding his penis, looking amazed, as if penises had just been invented and he'd been asked to try this one out for size.

The Anniversary

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I don't want you like a tiger doing homework in the circus

The Chair of Rejection

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Before I published anything in a literary magazine, I was rejected by literary magazines, dozens of them, and these rejections gave birth to one of my more strange and long-lived art projects.

Luck

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You climb on a stool, drink off the first glass without coming up for air. Man, that tastes good!

A Map

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It was war without beginning or end.

If I Kiss That Girl

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Because she is waiting, seated on my hotel bed, making comments about my sonic white toothbrush being a vibrator, telling me she's bi, gorgeous with her poly-amorous discussion and long brown curling hair, with her fawn-like face and delicate breasts, wit

Rites of Spring

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A tiny bear emerged from the cave of his mouth, grabbed the hair and pulled it on his lap to play with it.

Our Kodak Moment

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“Should I go over?” Ma asked, wishing she could freshen her lipstick while finger-combing her frosted hair. “Sarah, fagodsake, let the man eat in peace. No one wants to have his picture made with food in their mouth,” said Pa.

under the skin

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Every few days, on one of our walks, the dog and I go down to a shallow, quick river...

Lake Chelan

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Amish-like, between the sheets.

On Being From the Dirty South, While not Considering Myself a Redneck

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How to not be a redneck? Basically, it is a matter of volume, ancestor worship, respect for the truth and a command of the English language.

Gershwin’s Second Prelude

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While Kate practiced the piano in the tiny third-floor apartment, Wiley cooked dinner, jogging in place in front of the stove.

Ginger

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I didn't tell her how deeply a terrible weakness for ginger haired people ran in our family, how fortunes had been lost only because of a red beard, a freckled shoulder of exquisite paleness, or a pink nipple.

We Are Not Joaquin Phoenix

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Joaquin Phoenix has inspired me to quit writing and purse my true lifelong passion.

My Date With Satan

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My date with Satan commenced at the Sanrio store by Union Square where we went to browse through two stories of miniature Japanese school supplies and grooming accessories.

Black & White/ Color

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We had them in our bunk beds in the trailer, before Becky fell and broke her neck.

The Tightrope Walker's Demonstration: Coming Out

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"Oh, abracadabra," she muttered.

Baby, Baby...

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Co-workers come in to pee or brush their teeth and the pump squeaks and from the stall, Ling says sorry…I'm sorry.