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by Rachel Rose Teferet
Every July, he remembers the day he died. Jenne had walked with him from the beach; he remembers how hot, withered leaves fell onto her platinum hair. He remembers falling into her smile the way a blind man might fall into a well.
See How You Like Us Tomorrow
by Daniel Koehler
In the alley behind the Dixie Motel in Memphis, Jolene craned her neck upwards at the smirking steel cowboy in the idling black Volvo semi. “You like to work truckers, honey?” the driver asked, peering down from the cab.
The Watchmaker’s Secret
by Bryan Merck
I do not understand a well-
The passing hours and minutes are not stable
for me. They slow, stop, vanish.
Maryanne Taught Me To Dance
by Joe Cappello
Ernie Spano messed up on his sentence diagramming, forcing us all to stay after school and watch him squirm. He drew a horizontal line on the board with a short vertical line in the center dividing it in two. That’s as far as he got trying to figure out what words went where from the sentence Sister Rose Bogota wrote at the top of the board.
by Amy Adams
Puff of white
against cornflower blue—
Yes, You, Cloud,
by Farzana Marie
Inside the super(airconditioned)market
I smile past the piles of smug plums,
shy nectarines decked out in Sunday best,
gaelas beaming, made-
by Caroline Shepard
Crickets are plucking their strings in Detroit.
They live amongst the burned houses,
with their crumbling brick
punched by drunk windows
and the unintentional small lot forests.
by Mary Barbour
I’m getting the hell out of Jonesboro as soon as I can and I’ll tell you something, I’m not ever coming back. Sometimes I wonder what I ever did to end up in a town like this, in awful old Arkansas, but there’s enough to get you down around here without thinking that way. Besides, they say everything in life makes sense, you’re just not always supposed to know why.
Roy Blackman’s Mule
by Michael Brantley
It was early afternoon and I was about eight inches into the tunnel I was digging under our old pecan tree in the front yard. We didn’t have Global Warming then, we just knew it was pretty damn hot in August in North Carolina.
by Steve Romagnoli
When John Lennon got shot I was in a bar and watching the TV. Right after it was announced, the bartender gave everybody a free shot of whiskey. This was no great act of charity since there were only three of us drinking at the time. After we drank our shots the bartender remarked that the joint was dead, just like the Eggman.
Nobody Can Touch Those Numbers
by Refe Tuma
Alex cursed as his Blackberry powered down. One hour and forty-
The Girl Is Not There
Marissa wasn’t supposed to be here. She said she was sick. She was always too fucking sick to see me. Yet there I was in a dark room with music so loud you could wake the dead staring at her and waiting for the Jameson to kick in and gave me a slur to my steps and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Howard at the Blue Cafeteria
by Joseph Plasan
A teenage boy sits in a blue cafeteria, in the last stool of the last table alone as one hundred conversations ring around his head. Many sounds can be heard, the first bellows of young men in puberty, the sporadic high pitched cackles of giddy teenage cheerleaders, even a large chocolate chip cookie being pulled from its wrapper by someone to the boys left that he can’t see; all of these noises shoot down Howard’s spine.
by Michael Plesset
Snarling metal looks at us strangely
could be hostile or only inanimate as clouds
of doubt roll around us surrounding
The Accidental Florist
by Marian Brooks
Nora had never so much as plucked a pansy before being hit by an 18 wheeler and suffering a concussion which rewired her brain.
by Lindsey Appleton
“You’re nothing, nobody, walk yourself out.”
Then you put more of that in your veins
Now didn’t you, baby?
Out of the Closet
by Michael Price
I should imagine it will come out eventually. I suppose tonight is as good a night as any. It's just that I have been so terribly lonely as of late, rattling around in this gorgeous old Victorian by myself.
County Road 39
by Mark Nenadov
We're passing parades
and piles of unidentifiable, incognito street signs
and painted lines and creatures
probably coons which you'd never see
in the city.
by Jen Baird
I know there aren’t words, no never.
A continuous motion of emotions
I do and don’t know.
A Cold Holiday
by Bridget Clark
I stepped outside on the concrete, my feet laced in worn brown boots that made a rough, scraping sound as I began to walk down the driveway. My legs took only seconds to achieve that unpleasant, prickly feeling that is associated with an inhumane amount of cold air.
Of Higgs and Flame
by Matthew Sissom
Every Friday and Saturday night the Quick Chick’s parking lot would fill with the signature rides of Rowan Randolph High’s designated elite. Styrofoam cups and expired blunts would litter the lot on Sundays and flutter to collect along the town’s main drag.
by Pat Malone
The party had rendered Jake Roberts inebriate and reeking of vomit. He was lying face down in a dumpster, attempting to determine whether or not he was too drunk to escape its walls.
Moving Out After the Divorce
by Stephanie Bradbury
How many times have I climbed these stairs-
The top never too far from the bottom
Only greater expectations
• • •
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