You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Eye Contact’ tag.

If I look you in the eye, it’s for what I need to know. You’ll learn nothing. All you need to know is this uniform and the benevolent authority it represents. The more you fidget and try to persuade me, the solider I stand in these black shoes. Read the rest of this entry »

We started with an exchange of thumbs-ups, not because they fully conveyed our feelings but because we were plummeting toward earth rather quickly and needed a shorthand gesture for Yes, we will live; isn’t it exciting? Read the rest of this entry »

They dance at parties now who only ten years ago moved like tan machines or seated at desks impersonated receptionists or standing stiffly with legs spread functioned as security guards. Read the rest of this entry »

They come to Miami, he told me, because flights are cheap and the locals mind their own business. Same here, I told them, plus the women are drop-dead knockouts! I raised my glass and reached it past him in his wife’s direction; we all clinked glasses and I ordered a round. Where I come from, that’s a contract. Read the rest of this entry »

What must it feel like to know you’re being operated on. Hear the happy surgeons chat about vacation homes while they stab and reach inside you. Just a few steps from the diner door, the first blow paralyzed me. I fought my body as it fell, but couldn’t make it move. Read the rest of this entry »

Our fear of tooth decay is functional; of saber-tooth tigers is not; of decay—or for that matter decadence—as a destination, can’t keep us from turning into soup bones and stew. It might save us some pain if being afraid kept us from visiting the dentist, but once we’re in the chair, it only makes things worse. Read the rest of this entry »

Let’s all have a laugh at humanity, while we still have a sense of humor about us. It’s getting dark out there, my friends, where we make what we call our livings, but here in the room, where our private movies are staged and we are stars, Read the rest of this entry »

Dear B—
You can’t imagine how a woman of substance has changed this house and all your boys, me included. Billy brought her, thinking she was his, but they’ve each found reasons to love her, features of you, I think, that they vaguely remember. Read the rest of this entry »

I stayed inside her for a very long time. Propped on elbows, I let my rhythm slow, listened to our breath like bending trees and felt my heart keep time. Read the rest of this entry »

It has happened only rarely in his perfectly healthy life. He has reasonable relations with his spouse, his children, his parents, siblings, associates and friends. Read the rest of this entry »

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The pen name David B Dale honors my parents Beatrice and Dale. David+B+Dale = davidbdale

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