Fiction
Only the Good Parts Left
Angie was the type of car people kept in antique store backyards ‘cause they thought she looked cool, “There ain’t nothing like a Classic Chevy.”
Led
“Let’s be in love for just tonight,” you said, When I had better things to do in red High heels. Encircling your big bad bed
Skirt
I. I see a video of women cycling in short dresses talking of how not to flash. They wide-angled their legs, pull the back of
No Man’s Land
Bloated clouds float above the prison, obscuring the sun. I linger outside the narrow cell window, which is no more than a barred gap in
Early Morning Ramblings of a Twenty-Something Girl
A dream of a 1920s quasi-candid shot of Debby Harry, mingling graciously among a grandiose Studio 54 scene. Spray the lens of my life with
Edit
Can’t you let the film spool unseen on the stained floor? Its frames forever static as my fingers resplice our hands. Let my battalions of