Death's here again, oversleeping in my bed. I can't catch a break; I wanted one Saturday morning alone. "Move over,"I say, "Your feet are so cold." "My feet? How about yours?" Death accuses. "Poor circulation," I answer and roll over on my stomach. "What's your excuse?" Death laughs and continues to hog the covers. "What… Continue reading Death is Sleeping in my Bed Next to me
Tag: Vignette
Hometown
We are small town. Small town. We are 509 branded. This isn't our first time at the rodeo. We've actually been to a rodeo. State fair. Church camp. Backyard barbecue slip n' slide bonfire inner tubing star-gazing. Our lives are mapped by rivers and mountain ranges. Our futures are shaped by agriculture, where our parents… Continue reading Hometown
The Collective Stink
The two young men stood in the middle of the subway, that spot reserved for the rush-hour swell or else the stage for optimistic break dancers determined to rouse the unengaged masses. The train rambled between Broadway-Lafayette and Grand, from one underground sweat box to the next. The men, listless on a Friday afternoon in the… Continue reading The Collective Stink
It Was Gone Before We Got Here
On the N train into the city, past rush hour with its body-to-body congestion, but not quite to the emptiness at the end of the night, when it's only those who work too late or those who don't have to work much at all, riding the train in that collective silence that only happens when… Continue reading It Was Gone Before We Got Here
