The wind settled, she fixed her hair, smoothing down the wiry strays, and Leanie waved her first goodbye for the last time.
Mayonnaise, like love, spoils quickly, something Jill forgot because it was so goddamn hot and because she got so messed up on all those beers while Tim gobbled seconds, thirds, and then a final plateful of her famous tuna salad.
It always sounds like, but is never actually, a ship; only waves lapping endlessly at the side of the boat.
Silence on a White Porch
Wasps perform white geometry without sadness or guitars
I see him at the beach in our favourite spot and call out, raise my arm enthusiastically, giving my sunniest smile, swelling like the sea before the wave crashes down: it isn’t him standing, turning, where I scattered his ashes and it’s beginning to rain.
I asked my stalker not to follow me home tonight, so he lied and said, all right.
Sometimes in My Lungs But
Most days I felt it pressing in my diaphragm, the weight of all I haven’t said.
Overworking leads to overpartying, and patients arrive still burning at both ends.
Outside in the dark, an owl nabs a rabbit and a cat chases mice, while I play poker online and lose my rent.
Riding the rails of the States, dismounting a piggyback flatbed, Arlo left a leg behind, exhausting his remaining years hopping freight cars, chasing his hobo limb to the horizon.
What I’m Doing in the Road
I like to look to the top of the tallest trees, an exercise in scope by a socially anxious introvert who only wants the proper perspective.
Their love was a winter kind of love, snow blind and frigid, icicles hanging precariously from the eaves of their pasts.
Once behind the glass, I grew even more depressed; Homo erectus was now strangely inanimate, while the people outside seemed more and more simian as their voices and gestures amplified.
You Can’t Miss what You Forget
As he pulled into the driveway, he noticed that the red ribbon was no longer tied to his finger and wondered if this was even still his home.