How else could I respond to my mother when she called me a “son of a bitch,” but laugh at what she called herself?
Note from Phil
If I am sleeping when the rapture starts, please, don’t wake me up.
I played a lot of Time Crisis, when, after my parents divorced, Dad would take usto the fake Dave and Buster’s every Tuesday because they had cute waitresses.
All We See Is Eyes
In this quiet Ft Greene apartment, with its too many layers of chipped paint and iron bars on the windows, moonlight seeps through the tree branches in the backyard into this high-ceilinged room with Persian rugs, where your fingers travel up and down my arms and our bare feet search and then intertwine and it is here, in this faintest of illumination cutting through the darkness, that I see your eyes.
Sifting dead flower memories, the pungent rot of slime-wilted petals forever fogs the present as I fathom my future;