Me and my best friend hung out every night on the streets, smoking cigarettes and talking to older boys in cars.
Tag: Mondays Are Murder
No matter how many times you’ve done it, it’s never easy.
Matt sneezed all over the pig fetus and then wiped his nose with his glove covered with formaldehyde and who knows what viruses.
Vespers—a chronological designation unfamiliar to a Methodist town like Pacific Grove.
David’s gloved hand slid over the frozen cable railing for balance, and Claire concentrated on her footing.
We huddled around the card table last night, scheming about dusting outta this joint during the morning bus trip.
“Thieves,” Officer Summers said, “are generally lazy.”
Near dawn I wake. / The pale blue light cascades over me. / It drills and spills down through me…