Monday, December 29, 2014

866. The first battle of Hazel Street

You've never seen people so desperate - or so angry.
The two sides clashed under the few street lights still shining.
Where blood pooled, it was black as oil.
This was the new normal.

Monday, December 8, 2014

865. I'm pretty sure Alec Baldwin owes me fifty dollars

Fame: that most important and honest of modern measurements.
I want to live in that world, to breathe that rarefied air.
That's why I loaned Alec Baldwin fifty dollars.
Either him, or a man on the street who looked a little like him and spoke with sufficient gravitas.

Friday, December 5, 2014

864. Variations on the word no

"Maybe we'll make love this weekend?" I asked over the folded edge of the newspaper.
"Maybe," she said.
She was digging at the edge of a grapefruit with a spoon.
"Maybe," she said again with a segment of grapefruit in her mouth.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

863. Mean City

When I was a boy, my sainted mother owned a pair of brass knuckles.
I can still remember them - the texture - when she'd press them against my face.
"Nobody likes a crybaby," she'd say.
The metal bites against my knuckles as I ball them up into a fist.