The Way it Ought to Be it’s firing on all cylinders the way i think of you, a master machine with gears in between to take me down the road. it runs like Persian silk leaves me weak in the knees and i’m still falling asleep in front of you like a TV. we are
Liberty, Ohio
TODAY IS A BEAUTIFUL, SHINING, GOLDEN DAY OF A DAY. Canine teeth. Four per soul. The sharpest in the given set. The business teeth. The dentine folks tear their McDoubles apart with.
In Liberty, Ohio, it’s warm, it’s 2:57 PM, it’s Sunday.
Happy is gargantuan. One hundred and sixty pounds. Five years
Toy Story Having been sent to get a birthday present, one under twenty dollars, he loops the unfamiliar aisles more and more slowly until finally he just grinds to a stop in front of a shelf of Barbies dressed like doctors. Her exact specialty isn’t clear. She’s probably something like a radiologist or ophthalmologist, so she doesn’t
Not Lost I know exactly where I am.
“We are not lost,” I tell Beth.
“We are so lost,” she answers.
“No,” I reply, “‘lost’ is when you don’t know where you are or how to get home. “I know where we are; we are at a gas station just off of the 99 in
Don’t Waste Wine When There’s Words to Sell Even, especially, her bedroom was girly. He wasn’t used to feminine. When he was first in her bed, it was daytime and they hadn’t really been drinking, despite the bottle of wine by the bed, a prop to excuse their actions. They only had a few sips
Where Love Lies They were a common sight, the little white dog and the man who held his leash. They never rushed. On warm days they sat in the sun. The man dozed with his head to his chest, and the little dog lay on the ground with its nose on its paws. When the
The Sock Hop
Bitsy arrived at the church bake sale and put her special lemon bread with the other goodies. “Whoa, that’s a big table. Let me give you a hand,” she said to her new friend, Alice. Bitsy never dreamed she and Hal would move away and have to make a
Spores Mary Ellen, but Mary Ellen maybe the mold will rot your lungs because that’s what your mother said about Patti who moved with John to Savvanah and died because there was mold and the spores made a home in her lungs and it was hard to breathe. The mold made her lungs its ecosystem
The Restoration of a Dead Philosophy When there’s nothing left to sell, only then you sell the horse. These were the words of my Grandfather Harris, an old man who had been vowing to commit suicide for well over a decade, to rid himself, quote, of all the idiots, charlatans, and bunglers, foremost among them
Homunculus I’d paid, I’d signed a contract. I thought, Cut my losses, cancel. Keep your money. Who was I to criticize a web designer? I’m an old fart. The internet seems like mumbo jumbo to me anyway—it’s hard to believe that cyberspace is real, that anyone can make something happen there. Where is “there” anyway?
