Robots Don’t Think

The toddler hangs straight-legged from his arm cradle while he bangs with the side of his fist on the plate glass of the storm door that he had to re-install because her husband knew nothing more on how to do anything but sit on his ass and have somebody else do it. When she comes …

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Street Scene

Something out of a movie called, The Lover’s Duel. Boy meets girl in street scene while girl above looks on yearning for her own scene, perhaps, while the couple below posture and prepare for their dance, their duel without pistols standing guard in defense of their heart; perhaps he plays it cool, casual and all-the-while …

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Credit Score Blues

(Spoken in a voice loud and deep and resonant enough to fill a large plush-chaired auditorium with box seating, uniformed ushers and guests in Mink shawls.) Hello, I am a sub-prime borrower, a less than, an unsavory investment riddled with high interest debt like bullet holes in a Renault on a street in Aleppo; don’t …

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Single Mothers

Between her thumb and forefinger she holds the butt end of a bent, smoldering joint and inhales as the rain beats fat heavy cold drops down upon her and the toddler in her stroller blissfully unaware of strange smells, rain spells and where in space, time and geography she sits strapped to plastic wheels as …

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Sad Song At the Bar

She sits alone at the bar and thinks how she’s an archetype lyrical subject for phony romantics, men mostly, with scruff faces and long oily hair constantly tucked behind flaky ears and beneath hundred dollar camel hair hats that every hopeful idiot wears and strums an old Washburn in his room at midnight while the …

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