507 17 6
|
|
113230
|
white-gray mounds persist
|
9000
|
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 …
|
1100
|
The scent that drifted through the canyon most nights seeped early through his open window. He pressed his face to the screen. A young woman sat on the patch of crabgrass beside his vegetable garden and fed apple slices to a rooster standing between her legs. In her other…
|
941511
|
I tickled grass. I wanted to
|
