Barbi stands with her back to the mountains, arms raised. Behind her, heat-haze suggests a lake where there isn't one. Jack revs his engine. For a minute, I forget I'm gonna lose. When the dust settles, Jack’s waiting, already smoking. Barbi, though, she saved her smile for me. Featured image by Norbert Schmitz from Pixabay
Six months ago I’d’ve said it's crazy, the idea of you and me. Six weeks ago I almost walked away. Shaking my head, I button my best shirt, red garnets winking at collar and cuffs, and watch your face light up in the mirror.
It's raining outside- that heavy Chicago late-summer rain that ruins shirts and hairdos, knocks down branches and floods gutters and sewers. All along Belmont, folks huddle in doorways, pressed against buildings and hopping from shelter to shelter. A hat rolls by in the street, with a young man in skinny jeans chasing it. Inside, The … Continue reading Little Pink Riding Hood
I didn’t know what I was expecting when I broke into Grandma Marie’s old house with my girlfriend, but the man falling out of a hole in thin air to land at our feet wasn’t it. "Look, man, I'm sorry, we thought the place was empty." It sounds inane. No, mundane, like men fall at … Continue reading Curtain
The porch light is off, and for a minute I think maybe they thought I wasn't coming home tonight. But then I hear the soft plucked notes of Inay’s guitar. She’s sitting on the porch swing in the near-dark. Between the living room window and the streetlamp, there’s just enough light to make out her face … Continue reading Anchors