The father preferred to talk about nature, about ideas, but neither of his kids were old enough for that now, so he found himself talking about overdoses.… more
The father preferred to talk about nature, about ideas, but neither of his kids were old enough for that now, so he found himself talking about overdoses.… more
Jimmy was not a person I would have considered having sex with. We had a symbiotic relationship in which all parties benefited except everyone else in the class. I can only imagine how cringy it was to witness, but in a room full of mirrors, it’s easy to trust no one else is looking at you.… more
I like driving; he once told me you can go anywhere. He still had curly hair, mostly grey, and a mustache, which I think he dyed. He wore pointy shoes but no shiny clothing anymore. Just the dullness, the creases in his face hardening. The loathing of everything and everyone dampened only by the hard ache of time.… more
You are bound for the neighbor’s horse barn where we can talk about artificial knees and hips and dropping dead and the dog sleeps with fluttering hunt eyes and the cat blinks watchfully from the little window ledge looking wise about nothing at all.… more
After the fact, I think it’s normal to catalog the things I didn’t have time to say to you. This kind of thinking forms a common self-soothing refrain: oh, yes, everyone must feel this way. Move along, rubberneckers. No tragedy here. … more
He came to know home was about time, not place. Before saying goodbye, his slippage stark, The Thinker with Rodin’s muscle wasted, eyes sad when not closed, close to warm blood and nerves’ end, he hoarsely spoke of that girl.… more
It was never part of the plan to have dinner with the tumor. But eventually it seemed like the only thing left to try. It didn’t go well.… more
I loved the old room, though it was dim and ugly and old, stank of the pungent antiseptic soap we used to mop the mats and the brininess of sweat that couldn’t really be scrubbed away. It smelled like what it was: a box of straining bodies on a soft floor, blocked in by padded walls, a training ground that contained as much of yourself as you were willing to release.… more
I’m sure plenty of his friends’ parents stroll through his line, but I wondered how many of them had taken him to a concert in Detroit when he was 15, and if I was the first on a Saturday night, buying beer and sushi in a Dusty Rhodes t-shirt?… more
The last time I saw you, I didn’t know I’d miss who I was before the last time I saw you.… more