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I saw Sharon one more time, in the summer of 1969, when man first set foot on the moon. I met her at that nightclub over on Hwy. 83, near North Avenue in Elmhurst where everyone still hung out from high school. She came back to the basement at my parent
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Creatures of the dark don’t follow daylight savings
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The new girl is weird. She's pretty but wears cheap, tacky clothes and no makeup. Maybe she's dumb or shy. Her cubicle's beside mine. I tried talking to her between calls but she ignored me. She said her name's Pandora or something weird like that. …
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You took me to this great salad bar once, down in Chicago, on a special date. It must have been for my birthday (how old was I!) I remember that salad bar. It was the only salad bar I’ve ever seen that had caviar. I loved that black caviar. They put it up
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It was a slow night, even for a Tuesday. Even with just two of us working. Rod who normally worked deep fryers had called in sick. At eight o'clock Darren said we could start breaking things down and cleaning up. If it stayed slow we could leave right at eleven without…
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You gave me chills on my opposite hip whenever you touched me from behind, when we spooned under the rough woolen blanket in your basement. Whenever your essence touched my life like that. Just like when you said, “You came, that’s all.”
That’s all? T
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I still see you lying on the tracks
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I remember meeting this famous rock musician once, when I was in real estate. He could be such a jerk. It seems like the famous ones always are. He saw my friend Susan talking to herself in the kitchen at a party where we were. “That woman is never alon
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It must have been twenty years before I first heard Willie Nelson’s voice without the accompaniment of my mother’s crying. She liked to listen to country music on the radio while she cleaned dishes, ironed shirts, watered plants, and whatever else the hou
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Speaking of stiff nipples, I heard you once wanted to become a painter, because of your fondness for nipples. Feeling like Gauguin and his little Polynesian women/girls, are we? So, you're going to try to out-paint God, are you, Mr. Sistine Chapel of the
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A man came to a wealthy country in the North, and whatever the man laid his eyes on, would disappear. If he looked at a car, it would be gone, if he looked at a tree, it would vanish, if he looked at a dog, it would cease to exist.
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On Terry’s eighteenth birthday (the summer of 1966, the same year you graduated from high school, and the year I broke up with Sharon) I took Terry out to Fox River on my dad's ski boat, and opened up my robe and showed her all there was to show of myse
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The crowd is not liking it at all ...
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