Category: flash fiction

• April 16, 2022

  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.…
• April 12, 2022

  tell me.

  that’s just it, i said. everything tastes. and that’s what makes the best of memories unbearable. sent two strokes down along her arm, back up.  your pillowcase. the bench where we used to laugh over loaded drinks. the tree i once climbed without an exit plan, the bark, leaves, roots, dirt under my fingernails. separated…
• March 20, 2022

  alphabet cum.

  i’m not going to not say what it was about that single entirety. sometimes you marvel at on top, side to side, from behind. one of us gets strapped down, turned around. so many ways you can breathe into someone’s ear, maybe several someones if the world had a way of smiling that day. there…
• March 8, 2022

  path.

  I was halfway down the path, mid sentence when I put my mouth on mute. Not because there was no one to talk to. That had been the case for the entirety of what was now an entire grey-layered week. Wasn’t because of the insistent tap of the knapsack as it beat against my back,…
• February 11, 2022

  red blend.

  woke up with the relatable moments of her lips on mine. a swell sense of divine, same as the 9.45 sunshine. blanket on the floor. both of us intertwined in a white sheet that went under a bruise, over her thigh, over mine, down, under and all around. red hair flowing along all of that,…
• February 7, 2022

  monday.

  i’ll take you up and along this this staircase if you’re willing to take the steps. we’ll call first and second as left and right foot, for either one of us. depending. on whether third and fourth have anything to say about our legs, calves, upward thighs, maybe one not quite as present as the…
• February 3, 2022

  open to suggestion.

  Uhhhhm…? Could it possibly take place on a train? she asked. Amusement park? Oh, or Ferris wheel. Park bench. Greyhound bus across the northwest states, or maybe the Badlands? Tree house. Rooftop. Maybe a graveyard? Mausoleum? Movie theater, sometimes you get lucky and nobody else shows. Elevator? Dressing room, during a surprise blackout, or… Then…
• January 31, 2022

  tell me.

  that’s just it, i said. everything tastes. and that’s what makes the best of memories unbearable. sent two strokes down along her arm, back up.  your pillowcase. the bench where we used to laugh over loaded drinks. the tree i once climbed without an exit plan, the bark, leaves, roots, dirt under my fingernails. separated…
• January 26, 2022

  the saddest song in the world.

    distancing is an art that remains unmastered, she told me. sifted through the albums, generous face awash in a jukebox mood. no small surprise. hard to perfect something that simply happens. who in this world is the best at hurricaning? getting hit by a bus? …when she loses interest… then she paused between Dire…
• January 21, 2022

  i stand by my mailbox and wait.

  “Do you know what it’s like to have a brain like this?” she screamed, stood up suddenly. Shins hard against the coffee table, destabilizing drinks, dirty dishes, bills, receipts, and an electric nest of bobby pins. “Thinking? Always thinking, with the knowledge that there is no clear intelligence at work? This brain can’t build bridges,…