She had a cocktail in a plastic cup, and I remember her nose was a sort of red. She wore a blue denim jacket at her house party and didn’t care. The one thing I remember about her was her curls. I remember their frizziness, like if you washed a doll’s hair and just leftContinue reading “Cold-weather gathering”
How’s this for the first line of a short story? “They couldn’t avoid being slobs at the restaurant table during their first date.” I mean, anything can happen after that. Just anything. But I like it ’cause right off the bat it’s a predicament. We could make these two people horny as fuck. And youContinue reading “Out on the town”
The mushroom lady is afoot after a winter-long downtime. She has the air of someone who worked in retail or perhaps an administrative office in a grade school. In her Old Navy shorts and button-down shirt and her hair done like Margaret Thatcher, she prowls the grounds of the apartment complex for sprouts of fungi. ThenContinue reading “The mushroom lady”
A husky nun I saw while buying some lunch: Ashen hair in the style of Pontius Pilate. Scowling, looking like she was there to settle a score. Necklace draped over her large bosom like a tassel. Its silver cross pendant outside her blouse. As if she expected to encounter vampires during the day’s travels
He smelled of deli smock — an amalgam of lunch meat, pork and musty dairy. Small brown puddles on the lid of his McDonald’s coffee cup shook precariously when he set it down inches from my elbow. He had thick-rimmed glasses on, and his eyes were hunkered down somewhere distant beneath his frontal bone. He madeContinue reading “His place at the table”
the boy coaxing pigeons at the park does not budge. he valiantly holds a small wedge of crusty bread from a family picnic — his slender arm outstretched. the pigeons brazenly convene to feed, forming what looks to be a hem encircling the boy’s feet. the boy is resolute yet visibly immobilized, as if standing in aContinue reading “feeding pigeons”
She held her Chablis over her double Ds during her solo lunch at the Thai bistro, placed onto the rim of her glass her two lips plumped with Restylane then fluttered a set of eyelashes worthy of the iconic Marlene.
Your fingers smell like gingerbread Did you know that? Which makes me suspicious because you don’t bake And you are graying prematurely on your head Which puzzles me, you being in your 20s Your father, meanwhile, who is my boss, or was, is like jelly or a wet washcloth on his leather chair on the porchContinue reading “like gingerbread”
The webcam chick with the gorgeous face and body and long brunette hair performed for her fans in her bedroom but the real erotic attraction was not her sexual play but the way that her witchy eyes eagerly watched the comments spill all over her computer screen as she unsnapped her bra and slipped out of her thong.