Poetry

a loner in isolation

I don’t keep anything in my pockets. That was the first thing I noticed, gosh, back when I still had to move my car. My chapstick and pens sit on the desk and my car stays put except for weekly street sweeping (though I don’t hear them come by so don’t think I even need… Continue reading a loner in isolation

Fiction · Poetry

Sunlight on the Number 9

April brings out the sunglassed ladies who don their frames on an afternoon bus ride through South Boston. Yuppie chicks and their bug eyes and dark lenses hide vulnerable souls from interlocutors found on smart phone applications they meet over drinks. Polarized eyes aid the creation of plausible lies. Vanity is victorious. There in the front of… Continue reading Sunlight on the Number 9