Stories tagged aging

Askew

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Your matted hair a clotted dark galaxy torn from useful teeth stars disappear into the flavorless gray Does it always have to be that way? Do we always have to change? Will you stare if you ever see me again?

Askew (version #2)

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My matted hair a clotted dark galaxy torn from useful teeth stars disappear into the flavorless gray a longing nebula of regret The universe is turning old before you know Does it always have to be that way? a gray universe of stars dying unknown deaths …

Concessions

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The boy ate, the girl considered it.

Vernon, Last Seen In Hawaii

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Dear Bess — I go to the First Assembly of God's church. (a Praising Spirit-Filled Fellowship.) It is in Maui. Dr. James Morocco, Senior Pastor. He has been pastoring the church for over twenty years. My, what a big change I am finding in my new l

Damaged Goods

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As she slunk to her topless Mercedes sparkling curbside, wax job hand rubbed in Hamburg, testosterone heads turned wishing similar treatment.

(This incidentally, is not political: what old people mutter when you’re not listening)

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... not really as prayer, but as close as we can get.

Un-becoming

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... Prison/ is perfect for the incorrigibly old.

One Hot Baby

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This is a true story. That doesn't make it true, of course. It was something that happened just one time, never before…

Dancing Shoes

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Though she is looking at me, I sense she is seeing someone else. Somewhere else. Maybe a long time ago. Her hair looks like cotton and a silk scarf is draped elegantly across her frail shoulders. Plum lipstick outlines lips almost vanished with age.

The Home

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They take her cookies they take her Coke they take her Kleenex the whole box not the used ones They take, they steal everything They’d take the brain out of an ox if they could Diamonds they steal bars of soap as long as they

Opulence

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The seated woman dressed in blue with the stark white hair, starts saying, “She’s a wicked witch. This one, she’s a wicked witch, a wicked witch. She insulted me.” The tall, standing woman with bright red lipstick, elegant at one time, you cou

I Don't Know How the Nights Can Be So Long When Life Is So Short

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The tall, standing woman with bright red lipstick, elegant at one time, you could tell, responding, “She has dementia,” pointing at her brain. “She was a Holocaust survivor.” And the one they’re talking about turns as she’s pushing her wal

Quicksand

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At 25...

le Misérable

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I read the last line and close the book with a smack. “That ends that section,” I tell him. “Coming up is the chapter titled ‘The Ancient History of the Sewers of Paris.'

Ninety

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I'm taking everything off she announces, clawing at her clothes. A new scar gleams on her mended hip. Where did this come from, where is it going? A cross-hatched seam in the center of a body's landslide. A cradle for children, a long-ago man; a…