I love you like the first sip of White Claw / the last toke on a spliff / but without you I’m an unloved TikTok dance / a husked soul with spaghetti arms / open & ready for you / so take me back / the viraless meme that I am.… more
I love you like the first sip of White Claw / the last toke on a spliff / but without you I’m an unloved TikTok dance / a husked soul with spaghetti arms / open & ready for you / so take me back / the viraless meme that I am.… more
Daddy said I need to defend the house now that I’m the man and if I put a sock over this bat, the bad guys grab the sock but not the bat. See? Then I can bash em.… more
They call you the “Flying Squirrel.” It’s a stupid moniker, one you used to try to drop. Back when you cared about those kinds of things. You used to care about a lot of things you’ve sacrificed over the years, along with your pride, your relationship with your son, and plenty of your brain cells.… more
To confront your suspicions, go to paragraph 4. To trust this is just paranoia and finish breakfast with your family, go to paragraph 5.… more
I knew about dreams. I knew they could cost you what you already had, if you weren’t paying attention. If you spent too long keeping your eye on the wrong prize. They could cost you your wife, your house, your kid. If those things didn’t cost you your dreams first. I never figured out which cost me which.… more
Outside, the sky is island blue. No clouds. No wind. No hint of the dormant volcano below.… more
I woke up on a podcast—the host asking, “What do you think about the plight of zebras?” I tried remembering their plight. Zebras? Zebras? Had I recently seen something? On my feed? I’d search Twitter, but my iPhone was in my purse. This whole time I sat thinking, I tried keeping a neutral but slightly pensive look. “Spinach,” I said.… more
I’ll tell the paramedics that cruelty happens in slow motion, that this was no exception. I’ll tell them that the moment to cede power was there, and then it was gone, or rather, the moment became something else once their bodies hit the pavement.… more
It was embarrassing, sprinting in his shiny funeral suit, trailing the paper kite over the hillocks. And from this he gained some sense of the ridiculous and the infantile that fathers persevered through for little-ones too young to recognise it as anything other than wondrous.… more
Mark smells the shit before he sees it. Mrs. Friedman is naked on the beige carpet, leaning on her loveseat covered in flowered upholstery, her silver hair staining red. She is holding a dirty diaper in her hand. “What were you doing out of bed, Mrs. Friedman? Looking for a midnight snack?” “It’s none of your fucking business.”… more