The Walls are Thin

I can hear you singing through these thin walls, a song I don’t know. It flutters softly, taps gentle against the plaster, creeps under the door and curls snug in my ears. Your voice is beautiful.   Like warm wind across my cheekbones, soft sighs and interlaced hands, voice like the purr of rain against … More The Walls are Thin

A Wonderful World

In the park after work, just trying to have a smoke. Watching the children run around with the day dying behind them. The playground has become a swath of illuminated red plastic and shadows that spider-web across the gravelly sand from the jungle-jim. Mothers are giving me nasty looks from their places on the park benches; smoking is prohibited here. … More A Wonderful World

Boy, Uprooted

The summer air is hot against my face and there is no breeze; just sweat and sun sitting on my cheeks and forehead. I’m blinking slower than usual as I lay on the deck. The boards are scratchy and worn; I can feel them through my thin shirt. I’ve already got a splinter so I … More Boy, Uprooted

People Make Do

And maybe this is All there is to it. (waking up and waking up again) Maybe all there is Is another day— One sunrise after the next. (doesn’t it ever change?) Maybe there’s more to it But it’s out there Beyond your reach (because there’re bills to pay and mouths to feed and a safe, … More People Make Do

Paper Queen

My father was a giant who lived in the clouds. He had a full beard, thick and rugged, that would rasp against me when he’d kiss my cheek and a long, crooked nose.  His dark eyes were sharp and his grin broad. My mother was a wisp next to him, a paper cut-out of a … More Paper Queen

Upstanding Citizens

Ticket please. The train car was stuffy and dimly lit, with the fading light of day peeking in through the windows. The conductor moved, achingly slow through the narrow walkway, stopping to turn at each pair of seats. He was a thin, stiff man with dead, fish eyes that rolled towards the passengers with barely … More Upstanding Citizens