Stories tagged man

Ten Reasons

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When she buys a new dress on sale at Macy’s, with a low-cut neckline and a flattering belt that cinches at the waist, and she puts it on and saunters up to her husband, stretched out across the couch reading the newspaper, and asks, “How do I look?” with

Red Lady Octopus

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I hand one of them the octopus and run out of the room.

No Kind Of Boat

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the Atlantic fucking Ocean between them

Forgiveness In Strokes

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He sat on the seat furthest away and could not look me in the eye. Nor could he even glance in my general direction. He put one leg over the other and tried to speak. He shifted his weight. He crossed his arms across his board chest. He…

Marmalade

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A man, Athens, April.

Man-Bomb (excerpt from a Bromance in progress)

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The crowd- which consisted of exclusively men with beards and djembe drums and women with hairly legs poking out of corduroy patchwork skirts- cowered and crawled in fear around the angry man-bomb, mortally frightened yet encouraged to shimmy because the

My Man Wears Cherry Pants

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My man wears chartreuse shoes.! He wears chartreuse shoes like a new king right there on Main St.!

Sugared. Spiced. Salted.

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They continued sitting by the fake oasis, drinking single malt, eating soy crackers and chatting about the quality of escorts in glitzy glamping resorts. The Paring happened on number three. Just as the gold leafed chocolate fondant oozed decadent Bolivia

Stillness

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You were sitting on dark leather meringue, wearing slit ivy, epilated thighs sliding through, roots showing beneath your anaemic skin, fighting with the pale bluegreen of your veins. Quills extended from your left hand, bent about 10.2 degrees or so.

Room

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a man and a woman in a room at the end of the world.

Strange Times

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From my place, down here amongst the earth, we have many names for you.

Speak Softly, Tricky Man

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Snow fell against the windows casting shadows that danced like fireflies or flame—he couldn’t make out which for sure. He’d tumbled and bounced from balcony to balcony, the snow calming with the winds and gently falling, now.

Patriarchy: First Song of Despair

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It is not our fault