1070 13 3
|
—It’s difficult to say, he said. I have mood swings. Women don’t like that. They become upset.
|
95755
|
I should probably make it clear up front that I am not in my right mind, which I quite understand compromises the credibility of what I'm about to say. Without going into the history of my minor and somewhat more major psychotic episodes, my psychiatrist, unsure how finally…
|
136265
|
Our problems started with a few back and forth texts of emojis late one night. The next evening, a Friday, typically my poker night with the guys, my girlfriend came to the door.“You brought over pizza, how nice,” I said. “And, oh, gosh, look at that, a…
|
58265
|
Filling his nostrils, cold and moist against his cheek. The primitive taste of it, like licking a grave. Prayers tossed from his mind to the heavens as stray small coins are tossed into a fountain. His left arm throbbing beneath his weight. All around him
|
104845
|
Don’t break things, I add. And he looks at me like I’ve broken everything else.
|
120044
|
It’s nice, but, it’s weird not being in love, or maybe in love, sometimes in love.
(Or, not in love. Frankly, we might be not in love.)
Or, both of us might be. Or, only one of us might be.
(Good lord, I hope it’s never me.)
|
109233
|
Or, today, when early summer sweated the long pants off every woman under the age of thirty. Did I notice the way you looked at them for one, two, three seconds; then didn't, partial to short-shorts. It was sly how you kept them in your line of sight, alm
|
91142
|
One evening I came home late from work to find my wife drinking white Zinfandel by the fireplace in the living room and reading Wallace Stevens poems out loud to the dog, curled at her feet.
|
94922
|
Or, do my own red flags counter balance his. My back and forth, my restlessness, my one foot out the door, my ‘once a leaver… always a leaver’, my pitter patter for a former flame... peppered with my transgressions, my mistakes. Or, worse, the way I have
|
96653
|
“There is a fine line between love and hatred.” This was what his closest friend, Bob Sanders, had said to him many years ago. And it had finally and irrevocably proven to be so.
|
111566
|
He begins talking about string theory. He reels me back in, from the dinosaurs to the infinite, human evolution and alternate dimensions, until it makes so little sense that everything makes sense.
|
90933
|
You and she might make love here, next week,
and I'll buy my own razor, switch from baths to showers.
I shave my legs in my imagination.
They, like life, are smooth.
|
119053
|
She asks if I only write about men, which I tell her is redundant. I also answer, “Yes, but sometimes I write about them as race cars, hyenas, vaginas, or God.”
She smirks like she wants to smile, but it’s stuck halfway out her door. Her happiness has
|
100744
|
Once or twice, it was only once or twice. Three times, if I really count. And I wasn't giving or loving. And my self stayed hidden and I kept most of my clothes on.
|
81622
|
The woman stopped halfway down the stairs and sighed inaudibly. Her hand rested lightly on the bannister, her right foot caught in the motion of standing on the step below. …
|
