Absent. That's what mom has been for the past three years since the day the front door slammed shut on her and the four carrier bags of belongings. That's all she took, her makeup and her best pair of shoes. Crocodile skin. Horrid looking things but they seemed to mean more to her than the family.
Kathleen, the youngest still kept an eye on the front path most evenings just in case mom returned. Rest of us knew that very unlikely as her latest boyfriend had been very rich and mom had always been a gold digger.
We lived with...
There once was a man who live on Richmond street, he died a few years back. Took care of his elderly mother who used to shave her head and named her pet cat Winston Churchill, she had a few pet birds too. Anyway, the man was a Musician. He used to park his van down by this old run down building in the center of town and sit with the door open playing his guitar. He wasn't the greatest and he wasn't the worst, he just really enjoyed what he did. I forget his name but I haven't forgotten the...
White bedsheets flapping in the heavy breeze. Orange shrapnel from withered branches impotently scrape the stiffening linens.
I never saw an owl in my backyard, nor a black cat elbowed and shrieking on my fence.
But I can smell the wet detritus of autumn by the cellar windows and drip, drip, dripping from the gutter.
The doorbell. A banging on the screen door. Shaving cream in the middle of the street. These things, too.
I couldn't sleep, so I went out for a late-night walk around town. When I got to the bridge, I stopped to look out at the bright lights in the city.
Suddenly, a woman came up to me and gave me a hug. Not wanting to be rude, I hugged her back as we both looked off in the distance. I'm not sure why, but she began to move her hand lower down my back. I tried to hint that she was making this even more awkward than it already was by moving my arm up, almost to her neck,...
Vanquished.
She looked at the body of her enemy lying there on the floor. She knew she should feel a sense of triumph, but instead there was only sorrow. Sorrow for the lost years, the million memories that would never be, the milestones both present and future that would never be shared.
For you see, the dead body belonged to her mother.
Her mother had run out on her father soon after her birth, and the girl had wondered all her life what it was like to have a mother. Someone to make sure her hair was perfect on picture...
Bombs, were the last thing on his mind. Jack turned and spoke " It's funny, that today would have to be the day we become history." Jack lifted his left hand looked at it. and laughed. I puzzled said to him, What do you mean Jack, honey we can make it come on don't talk like th-." He said to me " you know what tomorrow is right?" still puzzled I didn't answer. " it was our to be our wedding day."
Inner core
Outer core
Mantle
Upper mantle
Crust
Susan.
Flora between her fingers,
Seeds between her toes.
Like Cinderella, I thought,
recalling an old "Wizard of Id" panel.
I stroll above the layers of the earth,
sing-songing under the tarp of heaven,
bulging with the weight of infinity.
Susan springs to her feet.
"Jesus Christ, a spider! Kill it!"
tangling her hair with
typewriter fingers.
I catch it on a leaf and
move it across the field.
I guess that makes me Mantle.
Joshua parked in front of the iron gate, irritated at this sign, just one of many from his absentee father. He was never there when he needed him. Where was he when he was six and skinned his knee riding his first bike? When he brought home his report card? When he needed help getting into college?
His father wasn't there when his mother died. Where was the hand of the older man when he needed comfort, standing at the grave of his closest family on a deceptively bright and sunny day? Where was he when the accident took his...
Falling forward, I'm falling free, falling from the tips of trees.
Falling in love, I'm falling too fast, falling for something that never will last.
Falling to pieces, I'm falling from stars, falling from heaven wherever you are.
Falling in winter, I'm falling through breeze, falling down onto my knees.
Falling for you, I'm falling from grace, falling only to land flat on my face.
Falling from above, I'm falling far below, falling where nothing ever will grow.
"Come here often, do you?" The old man said. He was sitting on the iron bench waiting, like me, for the bus. His clothes were a little ratty and he smelled faintly of moth balls. I didn't know what to say to him being as this was my first time here.
"No, sir. You?" I replied, awkwardly.
"Been coming to this stop for, oh, must be twenty years now." He said, shifting his cane a bit. His dark glasses hid his eyes and I wondered if he were blind.
"Ah...well..." I trailed off. I've never been one for socializing with...