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Twenty
Posted on February 26, 2019 Leave a Comment
At 7 a.m., in the nearly empty parking lot of a well-maintained office building – a building which, by the way, had a contract with Metropolitan Flower Exchange for regular placement and maintenance of seasonal plants, as well as a super named Joe, whose broken Italian-English often left us mystified – I sat and read […]
Boots
Posted on January 22, 2016 2 Comments
The cool thing about the internet is that you can look up stuff like, “What day of the week was January 19, 1978?” It was a Thursday. On Thursday, January 19, 1978 (a school night), I slept over my best friend Lia’s house. The only reason this had been allowed was that a snowstorm was […]
The Wet Spot
Posted on January 19, 2016 Leave a Comment
On a dark, desert highway. No…just kidding. On a dark, living room carpet, a cool spot at my feet, the warm realization arose that I had stepped on a pretty decent-sized spot of German shepherd urine. Danced, that is. Or something akin to danced, but probably more like non-rhythmic jumping. Whatever it was, my foot […]
Beautiful Day
Posted on June 18, 2014 Leave a Comment
The strange thing about memory is its selectivity. How you can lose days and weeks and months of your life, not remembering anything particularly at all about them, moving forward with a clean slate, erased periodically only by the act of time passing. What you did on any of those given days dissolves somewhere into […]
Deserted Tuesday
Posted on April 4, 2014 Leave a Comment
Ostensible and apparent, abandonment leaps, spreads into the front wheel – clips my easy-pedaled haste, glimpsing a shine in the driveway of the commonplace. Before I torment home, the words are formed, but float away unspoken, understood. A tour of momentum is about the words formed and said – ineptness of speech in a vortex […]
Morning Train
Posted on March 19, 2014 Leave a Comment
When I awake with my usual bloody lip salted and curdled in a mutinous fugue of fatigue, only then is every next day of manic perception ushered in. Another day ahead -I pray only for blackness- for to be defined by the monotony of progression is to be emotionally waterboarded. It’s an erratic regimen, erotic […]
A Girl by the Bridge 
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