“What are the chances of getting hit by a meteorite?” We were at Point Reyes seashore, had driven hours north of the city to watch the sunset. We drove to beautiful places in our untrustworthy car, wondering where and when it would die. “We live in the world’s most perfect place,” he’d remind me. “Except for earthquakes.” I wanted him… Read more →
In his Bustaan, Sa’di saith: ‘It is a crime to give sugar to the sick one,’ ‘For whom, the bitter medicine is fit.’ — H. Wilberforce Clarke An Unpublished Obituary “His moniker meant ‘Defender of Men.’ A lampoonist might contend that he defended those men he declined to slaughter.” # His Life in Monomers Amiable to hostages. Generous with… Read more →
Jinny was sick. She had let Tom share her drink. Jinny allowed it so she could put her lips where his had been because she couldn’t kiss him. He was allowed to kiss her. He had done it repeatedly once when they were lying on the sofa with his hands groping her breasts. Tom’s kisses were sloppy and unfulfilling. Jinny… Read more →
The jowls of a man of knowledge are weighed down by a hefty lifetime of facts. He is a man of damp bitterness and answers. The verge of too much thought can wear him down to his bed midday. But don’t expect him to lie still for more than twenty minutes. There is nothing illusive about his pursuits. Every day… Read more →
Spring from your mother, corded, thrashing, gasping to be set free. Breathe on your own. Howl and flail, fists knotted. Clamp onto your mother’s breast, suck and suck until comfort snags you. Suck more. Grab earrings, tug hair, bite your sister’s arm. Her shoulder. Her calf. Raise your arms to be lifted, cradled. Hurl toys. Leap from the couch, collide… Read more →
The villagers knew that he-who-lives-nearest-God took from the altar—still, they brought the largest of the day’s catch, beautiful bundles of herbs, purple rice rather than white or brown. What could they have done otherwise? They were as loathe to confront him as to see their offerings enter his belly, for he had built and lived in a hut against the… Read more →
I’ve got one: a detective who’s blind in his mind’s eye. It’s a real condition, aphantasia: the inability to voluntarily visualize imagery. We all have it to some degree. Some forms of it are extreme—total absence of imagined sight, sound, taste, touch and smell. That’s our man’s situation. See him driving, his partner in the passenger seat, through rain so… Read more →
Amber had a birthday party when she turned thirteen. Her parents parked their cars on the street so she could have the party in the family’s cluttered garage. Beach chairs were arranged in a circle around a big plastic cooler. The ice was on top and the Pepsi was on the bottom. Amber opened the cooler and told everyone at… Read more →
He was going to see his girl, he said, and you piled into the rust-orange beast with the flathead key and stripped column. He was short, five-five standing on a brick, and could barely reach the pedals. His baby was inside her, he said, and she was with someone else. But it started with a bar, the flipped switch of… Read more →
Wanda purchased the maroon football jersey at half-price due to a defect in the shoulder seam. Marvin allowed the shirt to linger in the dresser for three months before wearing it to the vaguely-Methodist barbeque where his wife would be inclined to hide her generalized anger. “What a terrific shirt!” the church Treasurer announced. And slapped Marvin’s shoulder in that… Read more →