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You ask, Could we have coffee? No, my truth, I’m still on this side.

“Fuck you,” I said, but it was hard to say it with any meaning.

There were classes where you became a family. It was a kind of love affair.

They had been good girls. They stood by him when he killed a man.

We began to obsess over water, where it came from, where it was going.

I’ve got my hands around the man’s legs when I notice the blood.

You slouched on the couch, naked, in front of the air conditioner.

The joy and anguish of youth, captured in two six-word stories.

“O youth! The strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it!”

I froze because, the absurdity. also, the urn had a loose-looking latch.

It was the way of the world: everybody wanted someone else.

Dr. Zee knows his son is struggling up out of some chemical fog.