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When I’ve finished writing my dictionary, things will be different in this world among English-speaking people and between you and me. When we first learned them, words were something hefty we could thrump with our knuckles the way we test a melon. 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 »
We were twelve and stupid, American kids living in America, lying on our backs at recess. You like that? We lay on our backs side by side in the sun, in the grass, full of youth, looking for shapes in the clouds. Read the rest of this entry »
I cried on the elevator, then over lunch and later at my desk. It’s funny now. They call me Weeping Will. Weeping Will stands looking at people who know him and though nothing they do is different today Read the rest of this entry »
On the edge of my bed, his outline brightened by moonlight, his profile sharp and reassuring just as it was, then later at the market his round shoulder turning, hawk’s brow silent and still, his little cap tipped so familiarly, thereafter whenever I need him, Read the rest of this entry »
Life may be short but forgetting takes forever, especially when they leave something behind. It’ll be four years now since Bob walked out with nowhere in particular to go, just trying to make distance from me. Read the rest of this entry »
Boy meets girl, girl bites boy, boy sees doctor. This is fact. We can verify this. Boy is intrigued but girl moves away before satisfying his curiosity. With its motives and suggestions, this is narrative. Read the rest of this entry »
During the funeral in his old hometown he didn’t give it a thought but when he needed a ride to the airport and couldn’t think who to ask he discovered he was in all the world alone in that particular way, Read the rest of this entry »
The kids are playing Doctor in the sandbox. Our first concern is what they use for instruments but we let them have their space. We see them in profile from the house earnest and still. Their lips are moving.
—Where does it hurt?
—Everywhere. I suffer from a general malaise. Read the rest of this entry »
—What does she look like?
—I don’t know who you mean.
—The slut your father’s sleeping with.
—Oh. There’s no such person.
I began to follow her then, in anticipation. Read the rest of this entry »