Trashpicker

I spend the week wondering what I can do for him, not just unload but bestow on him to brighten his prospects without, I admit, ever wanting his hopes to glow more brightly than mine and yet, I want him to be happier to receive than I am to relinquish whatever item I halfway hide in the piles of trash by the curb.

I, Witness

If tomorrow they locked us all in jail, how many of us could testify our way out? I’ve been looking at mug shot books all morning and nobody in this whole jury of peers collection looks not guilty. I wonder, if they gave me the book of women, would I find innocence there?

Substitute Player

All these years later, I still find Barney’s logic compelling. We needed mitts before the start of the season. We couldn’t squeeze the money from the pittance they called our allowances. After expenses, and what the church extorted in those little envelopes, nothing was left for new equipment,

The Rope Climber

Summer camp for boys had been a nightmare of fellowship and other itchy rashes. For weeks, he had tried to find somebody he could like or a hiding place, but they had pestered him with bows and arrows, canoes and climbing ropes. The ropes he liked.

Butchie

He should only hang. He only survived his youth because he had his parents overmatched and lived by their protection. Their idea of punishing Butchie was to limit him to slightly less of something the rest of us couldn’t afford even a little of.

Torre Pendente

The secret I felt thrust upon me is nothing I wish to claim; a syllable it was that earned me this room and in itself the syllable was true. From my small town near Pisa where bread was scarce I’ve journeyed here to a room of my own,

What We Say about What We See

First of all, I’m not saying whether I saw anything or not unless I already know you, be that as it may, but on top of that, why you’re asking me is what I want to know, with those fake-looking credentials.

The Lineup, The Teller

Talk about irony, four of us will get off because five of us are guilty. The teller knows us to look at us, or thinks she does, knows all five of us. She could point to anyone and be correct but the situation blinds her.

The Dive

It was an admirable dive, technically haphazard but stylish like good slam verse, and confident despite daunting conditions, including absence-of-pool. The diver launched from his start point at the concrete median was not in diver’s trim.

Neat Stitches

He wasn’t doing enough and he knew it. To live was hard—not impossible, but hard—knowing how little he was doing. However well he did the indispensable work for which he was appreciated and renowned, there were others who did it better,