Fiction
Ca’Venezia: Your Voice
Your voice alights on my armhair, a whiff of cigar smoke— caramel, and ghostly— “Cities die; let them.” Black thing to say. I patter
Thunder Polka
The thunder polka of a new romance Began today on my left foot, the one Believed to lead suggestiveness astray. True love’s a waltz: it’s
Empty Lines
[Ring, Ring, Ring] The telephone rings but I don’t want to answer On the other side is someone who I’m running away from [Ring, Ring,
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.”
A Beggar’s Opera House
She was suspicious that everyone in the room was melting. The man sitting at the coffee table directly in her line of sight was
One
I can feel the evening sun, warm on my face, but the chill of the wind coaxes me to pull my coat tighter around me.