by Heather Dubrow early in the morning, before the heat inside is unbearable, try walking your anger on an imperious leash. Remember that our city has “pooper scooper” laws, so clean up what that anger deposits near your feet, unfortunately never in the gutters where such matter and matters belong. And when Fido refuses to
by George Perreault a palindrome it’s called a tick tock keeping time or is that something else you know an hourglass is worse than swirl when just an empty skull remains i walk and walk and seems any trail will take me home or strangers point the way though standing on the cliff a spray
by Jim Tilley I’ve been thinking of you, and I’ve been thinking about graphs, those mathematical objects composed of lines joining one point to the next. You’ve been showing me points in your life connected to other points, happenings that, taken together, define who you are, as if you could possibly be defined at all—
by Tim Tomlinson 1. The Two Girls There were two girls at the end of the block I grew up on. One had strawberry blonde hair, a pixie cut with bangs, and freckles. I don’t remember her name, I don’t remember much of anything we did, ever, but we did a lot. Or more accurately,
by Andrew Sarewitz Four children, each three years apart, raised by parents who instill similar values and make the same efforts and mistakes, still end up with outcomes that disprove nurture breeds consistency. We were three boys and one girl. I’m the youngest, which means, I’m lucky. Other than political views, we three boys span
by Robert Garner McBrearty In this version, the young woman drives through pouring rain and checks into an old, dilapidated motel where she is shown to her room by a tall man, the motel owner, who mutters something about his strange, ailing mother. The young woman steps into the shower, but senses movement, a shadow,
by Mark L Anderson I’ve always been fortunate when it comes to break-ups. More or less, I’ve never ended things with an earth-shattering argument, never ruined a favorite song, drank myself to oblivion, or had to burn all my photographs of someone. Well, I did have one bad experience. Years ago, I had a partner
by Brook Bhagat You show up in the afternoon. She hasn’t done her hair, and shadows hang in triangles under her eyes. The gray robe that used to be so soft is pulled tight and held hard. She props open the frosted screen door with her bare foot. “Why would you bring a cake on
by Margaret Guilbert BARN ROOFING My parents had wired $1,000 in cash to the A&P for me to find an apartment in New York, and I picked it up at the store on Third Avenue. There was a homeless woman standing outside in cold winter without a coat eating Campbell’s green pea soup from a
by Foster Trecost I read the lease like I’d read most leases, giving each line a fair start, but finishing only a few. After the first page I was eager to sign so I quickly flipped to the second, but in place of continued fine print, my eyes locked onto letters so bold they mimicked