When the summer breeze blows warm across my face, I will come to you through the slanting light and watch you paint the picture you said you always would. We’ll capture the moment in a silent instant and hold it for as long as memory serves, untouched by heartbreak, with nothing left to hide, in […]
The carnival is sick freedom, something less, passing through town, barking forbidden desires, promising an untranslatable ticket to the show. Our parents encouraged this. They wanted us to rub up against something different, strange and welcome, but only for an instant, in the blink of an eye. “Love but don’t touch,” they said, “and don’t admit
Wes was nearly done writing a long letter he had been working on for two days. He put the pen to his lips and listened to the wind blow outside. Another cold and lonely Christmas had come and gone, but working on the letter gave him special purpose. He lived in a small storage shed
Ian’s brain had weak connections between the neurons that shaped thought. He never felt empathy or sympathy for anyone, no matter how badly that person suffered. He tortured the family cat when he was a little boy just to test his own indifference to pain. This didn’t bother him at all. It didn’t help that
Moose rose from his stool in Mother’s Saloon at last call and tossed four twenties on the bar, not knowing how much he owed and not caring. He strolled out the front door and onto Ocean Beach. He peeled off his t-shirt and tossed it in the sand, then lumbered toward the water in his
Walt had just finished a three-day conference on education theory in Anaheim that was long on theory and short on substance, but this didn’t really matter to him. The only reason he attended was to get away from home for awhile and take in L.A. culture. He wanted to look around a little and see