g-less-ness

Vestigial

            “Jenny, got bad news. I’m coming over.”             With that, he hangs up. I sit at the window to watch the street. When he shows up, he strings his lock around his bike and attaches it to a street-lamp, but doesn’t bother locking it. He never does. I’ve never heard anyone clomp on the…

shallow grave

Morder Moist Fowl

         A day be and that which ends. And tired through the bones. Creaking notions in the bottom of the blender, whipping around. Coffee at ten pm, because I might miss something. Television. Baked goods. Beer and maple syrup. Snoozing on the couch.          Wake up and you’re there.…

tower

The Longest Day

              “Can you give me your phone?”             “What for?” asks Marla. Still, she does what he says, and Ben tucks it into his pocket like it’s his.             “Go ahead and climb ahead of me,” he nods. The ladder is painted white. Marla touches it and wonders how many people have come up…

Painting by Myrna Cranmer

A Gift for Marie

            Sasha is a name that is hard to pronounce, thinks Marie, but there is no need to say names when you are splashing paint on snow and swirling it together to make wonderful patterns. Paint soaks through snow. Sasha upturns a can of yellow and Marie pats her on the cheek with a spot…

Gail Chandler painting.

Riomaggiore

             The man at the other end of the note bought her a coffee. They sat on the veranda, he lost behind sunglasses, she exposed and verdant in Italian sunshine. He touched her hand first. He touched her hand first. She squeezed his fingers and staggered through the debris of words…