He should have married someone, James tells himself at 80 coughing in bed with the flu. He remembers very well that Miranda was a nice girl.
Old Yoshiko in Tokyo can’t sleep because her husband snores so she sits in her kimono and eats a few rice cakes with a few sips of saké.
You find old poems in the attic in a box with the Remington Rand you wrote them on in the Sixties before computers were born. They were published then in little
He lives in the attic of the brownstone down on the corner, been there for years. He’s seen twice a day
It’s a very busy drug store with seats along the wall where folks who wait for refills sit and sometimes chat but as I discover you can
It isn’t a flophouse where Fred lives now but he calls it that a month after moving in and seeing his fellow
A notice appeared in the paper recently with the names and faces of eight men who have a combined wealth of $426 billion. According to Oxfam International, in 2015 this would have equal...
Young Tim goes to Zaire to write his dissertation in African Studies. While there he meets and marries a beautiful librarian
Melanie cried for hours the day a drunk driver ran over her dog a week after she had an abortion. She loved that dog so much she told her mother she knew
Through the nursery glass Carlos Montero peeks at Consuela, his twelfth, in the arms of a nurs… Pink as a peony with brilliant black hair,
In 1958 Elmer’s was the only high school in his county that had been integrated. Basketball was the big sport. People in the little town filled the gym every Tuesday and Friday. They ro...
Vacillating Benny, an ancient che… now retired from Monsanto, must de… if a poem his friend Ron has sent… is good enough for his hobby journ… Benny finally decides to let the p…
A clerk in a health food store became upset when I said I didn’t see anything I wanted since I wasn’t a vegan or vegetarian and liked my
Phone rings. Wilbur answers it. “This is Grace. Is Thelma there?… “No,” says Wilbur. “She’s out won… “You mean wandering about?” ‘No, she used to wander about. No…
We write the stories of our lives between the bookends of birth and death They stay on the shelf