Category: flash fiction
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at the gates.
sat myself outside. red steps. back against a closed door. cigarette. Jack Daniel’s. music still bumping, catching a row of bikes parked against the fairground fence. and what was on my mind… 6:25, here’s how the air feels on a perfect day, taste of a willow tree. sun at a lower level, some 71 degrees.…
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caterwaul.
the caterpillars have come back, once again sporting such April fashion sense. first spring of Season 2. seemingly recent arrivals crawling along the catwalk with with all the determination of a a young upstart. single undulating inch draped with a fur coat of pale-yellow static. bright dandelion faces on a mission. depending on the angle,…
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ghost.
you know the ambivalent stride, path some three sidewalks wide. and while you found yourself fishing, waiting for what if, the rest of us were waylaid by we know, we’re reminded, we live with it now, and that clever little crease against your pillow face is going to stay, rupture, smiles on repeat, reemerging, until…
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not just asking, this time.
when i was thirteen, i stood at the base of a wooden tongue, night, no rain, and watched as lightning plowed its fingers into the ocean, sand, touched down, and i felt the world drop away, maybe this would be the way to end things, convinced, i ran an entire mile, between purple bolts, lattice…
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you had your year.
it’s not enough to revise any length of days or events in rewind. you were beating your head against the cemetery wall, and that was then, then now, and when an ecstatic snowfall of fireworks triggered the first smile felt in so long, that was then, then now, and if you think you can have…
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corner pocket, 2018
corner pocket, corner pocket, corner pocket, i called it. this game of 9 ball started in mid-March, that was the break. the thunderbolt, sledge hammer that shattered the rack, dissolved the pact, sent numbers spinning. and i blinked, missing the moment where the 1 got away, a sly ghost-out into the side. but…
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wonderland.
Manny lost his thumb while carving initials into a Sunset Park sycamore on Christmas day. He had run from his house, boots crushing through a fresh snowfall north towards the hill. Streets empty, storefronts shuttered. Occasional fire hydrant peeking out from the drift, curious snouts wondering where the world went. From within his red skully,…
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smile.
I took a moment, on my way to work, to stare at an anthill. Close to 11 in the AM, so my shortcut through the park should have been free from the rampaging sneakers of tireless children; chasing squirrels, undersized soccer balls, or one another. Their interchanging directions switching from one interest to the next.…
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we lasted through winter.
i was sideways, asleep, or thought i was, between them, worried what if i would never feel this way again. morning just starting to peak. wouldn’t make its way through those blinds for a good bit, no use for the future. just an indication seeping in through kitchen windows. catastrophic gold. in love, two times…
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sometimes they listen.
The evening played out in timestamps. Front lawn embedded with individual flat rocks, leading up to closed eyes, her fingers tensing, slick with grease, firm grip worried that if she didn’t dig in with her thumbnail, the present might pass. She thought about the kitchen, husband rolling his eyes and telling her that thyme was…
notes from a never-was. 