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She looks down the street for Scott’s truck. He’s late but so is she.

Before he started spraying he would hand her the mask to put on.

David Lee

Nothing likes to be abandoned, no one likes to be compared.

My mother is queen of buttons. She shows off the prized ones.

Charlie wasn’t Lena’s first love, but he counted on being her last.

I bow to the life being lived in this finch on my terrace this morning.

Your friends are sniffing glue from a paper bag in the back of an Impala.

The laughter rises like the roar of a train as the men leap to their feet.

The first rule of the house is that everything must be even stevens.

He bound me to blind obedience, for which I’d shown a propensity.

Histories we spin from lust, our tongues heavy and soaked.

I want to sleep in a bed next to a man who won’t dream of me all night.

My “lonelymaking.” Also known as my horrible secret, continent-wide.

After you have read all you possibly can there may be a few lines left.

The night shower is a personal pan-blizzard, a folklore-free zone.

I wore the rose pants for weeks without telling anyone.

I will tell you about the sick. They are ruthless, they are like Attila.

I will tell you about the sick. They are ruthless, they are like Attila.

All I could focus on was if he was going to ask me to date him.

Morie Johnson was successful. I am not a hooker. I am only a thief.

“You’re great with people. Ever since you got over the drooling problem.”

I am the king of doing wheelies on the Stingray bicycle of my mind.

“No, no,” we say. “We’re fine! Really! We love things just the way they are!”

The door opened, and Dan stormed in, shouting, “Motherfuckers!”

The boy had never before seen his father hopeless. He was afraid.

Rain falls steadily, rattling down drainpipes and gurgling into gutters.

“Wanna give it a go?” my brother asks, nudging me with his 12-gauge.

We fed our dreams inevitable sins, the kind you lie about till you grow mean.