This is our line-of-sight indicator. Your tiny fingerprint glowed on the glass.

Then there was this short little girl, Jo Ann, who had a daughter and was divorced, who lived next door to Andy. She told me right after we did it one night that she had always wanted to have sex with me when she was growing up, as a teenager, I mean. A

And there was one girl from Ireland, with her thick Irish brogue, who came into my bedroom early on the morning before my final exam for my Masters degree in the writing program at Irvine. She knew I was so nervous about taking the exam that I hadn’t sl

Does she have vodka bottles hissing on the windowsills too, when the wind blows through the afternoon shadows? I bet this one is too busy to notice anything beyond her bed and nightstand. She must work all day, whenever she manages to pick up a customer o

Traveling in half-lit fluorescence, she smiles up at me, pale and strained

By what fictitious rib were you ever pulled out of your notorious youth, ever? Out of the early flower of your flesh, once on fire like a little vibrant reed with pure air, like a flute with wind getting up inside it? But already there’s a lon

A reddening? A certain swelling, a little passion among them, is there? What lips would not have given what they could, to speak more boldly, more fondly of you now? But now the country is fastened to arrogance, welded to it in an evil way, wanton with violent…