Tulsaslut [minutelovestory #82]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

“It’s unreal,” she said, “the epidemic length of our many brittle bones.” He’d told her, months ago, that she tasted like tears and she wasn’t sure if this was an idle, forgettable observation or an utterance driven by concern. It did not seem unusual to her, however. Why not taste like tears? She’d been counting […]

Valentine [minutelovestory #8]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

It was all about Betty. The smell of her pilled bathrobe, faint tuberose, soft and embedded in the acrylic fibers, reminded Norman of her body, which helped in remembering she was once on this earth, that she didn’t turn into vapor and that she is and was more than just pictures from yearly visits to […]

Jumbo’s [minutelovestory #84]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

Christine and Dirk have couples therapy on Willoughby every Wednesday evening. Dinner follows controlled emoting and so our Mozza reservation is for 8:30 p.m. and I’m early. I was there on the night when Christine and Dirk first met, at Jumbo’s Clown Room, when I was first dating Claude and he went everywhere with Igloo, […]

Luftpost [minutelovestory #45]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

I folded the paper into thirds and slid it into the envelope. Airmail’s delay was disappointing. For each day of transit, I crossed off the calendar with a black magic marker, miraculously deleting the days that I promised not to think of you. To not think of you was just to think of you in […]

Sunset [minutelovestories #24]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

His kids were young, not yet teenagers, not yet even what could be described as ‘tweens, and he would leave them in the house, engorging their slack, nubile bodies with Keebler’s striped shortbread cookies alongside a plastic bowl of Theatre Butter microwave popcorn, watching cable TV until Peter resurfaced. He locked himself inside of the […]

Ghosts [minutelovestory #73]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

Ghost bikes occupied most of his weekends. Creating skeletons scattered throughout the city as runes to remind us. It was the only means he could find, it seemed, to assuage the guilt. Everything had gone quiet then, like a Fellini film, the gnarl of traffic and bleating horns buried in that moment, burrowing into his […]

Dyeing [minutelovestory #39]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

By the time I’d been married twice and Jim, my second husband, had left me, though he was the bankrupt one without a job, I’d decided to stop coloring my hair. It was a task that had, over years, accumulated hundreds of plastic bottles of permanent hair dye and map-like folded instructions in English, Spanish, […]

Guard petals [minutelovestory #70]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

At the precise moment her father’s final exhalation resolved itself on this earth, she’d decided that the proper wardrobe of an orphan included, unquestionably, a corduroy blazer. It would serve her in the same way that a rose’s guard petals protect the precious ones beneath it, growing brown and streaked where too much stasis and […]

Eidetic [minutelovestory #88]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

You are looking contemplative while picking seeds from your watermelon wedge. Your two children chasing one another in the close distance, on acid green grass that never leaves a trace of footfalls. For you, their endless game of chase is ordinary, but I marvel at the absence of capturing and holding the hunted. But mostly, […]

Longing / Dave’s corner booth [minutelovestory #25]

Posted on Apr 18, 2013 in minutelovestories | No Comments

I couldn’t even believe it, my luck. Scorin’ the only girl in this tacklebait town who didn’t have a goddamn tramp stamp and a G.E.D. to show for herself, slingin’ blowjob shots at the Cock ‘n Bull and hopin’ someone real nice come along, wanderin’ in, to take her elsewhere. No, my Helen had dreams. […]