He sat amid a sea of empty cafe tables and chairs — a lone island in perhaps the Pacific. The shirt he wore bore illustrations of small sharks — a throng of them speckling the deep. He himself wore a mohawk. He had just demolished a slice of pizza: The flattened box sat lifeless onContinue reading “Shark Shirt”
I’m laying here propped up on my pillows like a patient in a recovery ward. I’m slowly making my way thru a tube of cheddar Pringles and watching planes drift upward in the smoggy distance. They’re taking off from the airport that’s not quite a quarter-mile from where I work mandatory 45-hour weeks.
I sit in the morning, tweezing my eyebrows, my coffee turning lukewarm. Over the past few days, my hairs have gathered like the poppy seeds on my toasted bagel — a small colony near the tail of my left brow, spread out like the homes of a suburb on the periphery of a city. ButContinue reading “A note about perfection”