Sep 13, 2019
The Ghost on Platte River Access Road
That was the problem with ghosts, they made the air around them poisonous . . . and the only way to be rid of them was to be rid of the source.
That was the problem with ghosts, they made the air around them poisonous . . . and the only way to be rid of them was to be rid of the source.
Humans should never have come to Florida, but their biggest mistake of all was Zoo City.
“Like my heart was a tiny explosion,” is how one woman on r/mementorol describes her experience. I want to feel that way again.
He is forced into farcical attempts to catch her attention. Every other moment of his life has been arranged to this purpose, so why should his son’s birthday be any different?
She had a smile like yours. None of us knew her real name. Then again, none of us were asking.
We’d pull the curtains from their rods above the large living room window when we made love. This was when we were our own gods.
It’s blithe, seductive, yet innocent. The color of soulfulness, it has been chosen for its ability to give people hope.
Our dance was inspired by a custom where women lay swords at their throats, and men step on them just hard enough to prove the women’s courage.
If he had remembered to meet her, it could have changed everything. What is uncertain is whether he would have been spared.
The boy loved seeing the tent from outside, lit up by firelight, glowing brightest where it was wearing thin.
They all were going around trying to prove themselves, litigating the case for their own worth: Look at me, look at me, look at me—I matter, don’t I?
Who is there? I called when a spell of quiet passed, though I already had my guess, an automated sighting notice having gone out last week.
You’re safe now, said the plates, the walls, the glasses, even the golden chandelier that I hadn’t noticed before.
Your near-life experiences have coalesced in this momentary identity. You are a woman speeding along I-10 with a caged green-cheeked conure chirping by her side.
When you disappeared, three nights ago, I told them you were up north, visiting your mother. Why should I tell them different?
I decide to put the plant in the ground the next time we stop, to insist that something I’ve loved will survive me.
They tell me that my new job is to chisel a deep and lasting crack into the foundation of American democracy.
The man in the fur hat warned me things might be different after we crossed the time barrier—that my presence might confound, even frighten those who’d forgotten me.
Her mother had never curved a cool hand around Marilinda’s cheek and promised, Mijita, your life will be swollen with love.
