the little crummy salon that churned out little fat women with pinked curly hair

I remember how silk felt against skin, dressed in my damn flimsy things, while the cold bit my nipples. How I would lie in your arms when I was young, after being awakened from my pubescent slumber. (Enough of that!) In a rush to grow up for good, holdi

One morning, she used a few prim phrases to break up with me. She had her suitcases packed by lunch. She was gone by dinner. Two weeks later, she emailed me a picture of herself sitting on a small brown couch.

My luck had just about run out when I found her. She sat upright like a really classy broad on that torn brown sofa that smelled bad. Bad like sour milk and cat piss. The coffee table was slick with spilt …

I hope my blonde down still beats in your heart, and the black crescent curved under, you will remember, and I would move toward your window where my own heart lay in a dish, with the thick valley lifting. Remember, I crossed and uncrossed my legs f

She is the clock warden and someone's late again. Two minutes or eight it's argued. Tick,tock, tick, tock. “They're always behind, ” she yells, “or rather behind something. “No, this can't be,” she screams, knots form on her forehead. The blue…

They travelled across the ocean's floor in a cloud of black ink and tentacles. Behind them was a waste of metal and glass and escaping gasses. A few men scrambled through the debris in wetsuits, trying to evade the stinging spume and the jagged quills littering the remains…

In the weeks after the blasts, Benton wandered the wastes looking for radioactive material from the bomb. If he didn't eat soon he would die. He would join the numberless others. Charred, decaying shrapnel lay buried in the rubble of what used to be…