She puts on her new shoes. She checks her lipstick in the mirror. She meets a friend at the corner for a drink. And then Gunned down in the street. And covered with a flower patterned sheet. Her new pink shoes bright against the grey Paris cobblestone.
Yearly Archives: 2015
There is only retrograde
Friday, November 13, 2015
0400 on the Georgia line he hammers south on 75 hoping to get through Atlanta before the locals wake and turn it into the usual shit show. The morning heavy with smoke and suffering. On the other side she sits on the edge with the lights off drinking whiskey and wine and hoping sleep finds […]
Remind me to tell you a story
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
On the west edge of four in the morning and Nebraska. The Air Force is running one of their secret trucks along 80 again. Their tactical convoy stretching from the desert of Kimball to the foggy thunderstorms of Cheyenne. Every cloud raging. Every mountain silent. Upset at the rain for slowly washing it away.
So, how goes the war?
Monday, September 28, 2015
Tiny rabbits crouching in the wide shadow of a redwood. Hearts pounding, ears twitching. Knowing the shadows aren’t dark enough to hide them from the owl’s eyes. The full moon wanders close. I hate that I have to die and spend so much time trying to find you again. The full moon wandering away. Always. […]
Memory Road, Boise
Sunday, September 6, 2015
The highway is closed, on fire, and the wind is blowing like the world is coming to an end. I guess I could go to sleep. It’s been a while since I’ve slept. Maybe even dream. Of calm oceans and extinct volcanoes and quiet helicopters. Of a white house on a green cliff in Ireland. […]
You think every story should end
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Up here in the high desert of Wyoming dead rabbits splatter the road. Perched atop telephone poles crows eye them hungrily. They, the crows that is, would be fat and happy. If this California traffic would ever cease.
I-70 Westbound, East of Oak Grove
Sunday, July 26, 2015
Back at their apartment, he wonders why she doesn’t answer his text. Out here in a ditch at the 36 yardstick, twisted metal and shattered glass, broken body and bleeding skin. A stranger holding her head in his lap, brushing her hair away from her sweaty face, praying to a busy god. The Highway Patrol […]
All the chocolate milk in this place is expired
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
This is an evil place. Built on the graves of the innocent, and the not so innocent. In the men’s room, a woman is crying in the handicap stall. I wash my hands, pretend I don’t hear her. I stumble back to the bar, pretend I remember where it is. Weaving through the noisy slot […]
Purgatory, Washington
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Nothing here but heavy sun and dusty lots. Burning air and falling hills. Rail yards and cargo ports. Containers and ships. Vagrants and lot lizards. And greasy meals.
Silence makes them lonely
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
I wake at dusk, climb down into the hot and windy twilight. I’m hoping to see something I’ve never seen before. Two planets dancing like tripping hippies. The fabled Star of Bethlehem, which wise men once followed to a myth. From a quiet corner I watch the sky. Behind me trucks belch and hiss. The […]