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Weekly Contest #373
Her The first time I saw him, his hair was a little too Hitleresque. But I liked that he dropped syllables like names. Though I preferred his girlfriend. She wore ballgowns to lunch and wigs to nowhere. As someone who lives on stage, I loved how theatrical she was. You’re going to be together. I’m not psychic. But, like all of us, I sometimes get downloads that turn out to be true. Usually about things I’m not attached to. As much as I try to squeeze the universe for information about stuff I am invested in – my cats; my dance career; my rel...
Weekly Contest #372
Witching hour 11pm It’s early still, for an insomniac. And even more so for those of us who are nocturnal. A club I’m proud to belong to. The milieu of artists and shift-workers and club-hoppers. And bats. Unlike the matutinal, with their morning greetings that batter us sleepyheads with forced bonhomie, when all you can do is grunt in response and hope they’ll get the hint and jog off into morning revelry. 12am Perfect time for reading. My night-time material is curated. Nothing too rousing. Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everyth...
Weekly Contest #371
Resting Place REST AREA 2 MILES I know you see the sign. “I don’t want to.” “You never do.” “Don’t start,” Amy says, hands 10 to 2. “Well, you need to stop. Anyway, Astro Boy needs to pee.” “He peed an hour ago.” “I don’t know why you always have to rush, Aames.” I look over at you. “Don’t say it.” “It’s…” “Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.” “It’s not about the destination...” “Argggggghhhhhhh.” “It’s about the journey,” I drum-thwack the dash. I smile and you look over at the passenger seat, and I hope it’s enough to excuse the New ...
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