I’ve never met him

But tomorrow I’m going to take Durer to lunch again.He won’t sit still.  He’ll  be interested in the supermarketdown the block and traffic, well traffic–it took aboutan hour for him to try out all the adjustments onthe seat belt.  He doesn’t like cars much, though.The surfaces are too flat and shiny.  He misses animals.I take…

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John Grey

Coffee House Get-Together With An Ex We meet in a coffee houseafter ten years apart.In our conversation,those ten yearsand our two togetherjostle for attention. You’ve met someone.You’ve settled down.But you still love Hendrix.And the beach remainsyour Mother Earth. Meanwhile, I’ve remarried.No kids so no need to boreyou with their details.We have our own home.Your meager apartment gets a…

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Young Suburban Boy Dreams at the Dinner Table

Eleven, your age of sleeveless sparkle tops and sundown sneakers, even the lemon of the walls in your home couldn’t tell you which way little sister should hit the piñata, or how much corn from the can mom would slip on your dinner plate. Dad still combed his hair to the left, talked Nixon and…

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Cynthia Eddy

Harangue He is a hard sellA man who knows what he doesn’t wantRanting on and on Appealing to his senses is uselessNeither hot nor coldGone is his sanityUnder his hatEnters the green dragon  Rattle She was one pieceHanging together likeThe skeleton in the closet. Each bone attached with hooksRattling at the least breezeWhen the door opens. Words clatter around in her…

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A Map of Purgatory, or That One Time I Worked in a Call Center

1. The First Day Cubette manacled, beslackedand boringbuttoned to the neck,flogging freeways towards debtless hope –I’ll be cubed like cheap ham at a salad bar,smiling behind circuited gallows,noose in a half Windsor,not without doldrumming dress heelstyping into sterile carpentry.Hairsprayed stare to spread bullshit like butter,one foot on the bottom rung,the other in quicksand security,I folded like…

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In the thirteenth year

I dropped  your mother’smirror. A horse reared: I spilledhot coffee on your lap in Amishcountry.  I walked under threeladders to get to the office everyday.  I hid a small black cat inthe front bedroom. You hatedcats. I was busy hating myself by Kelley Jean White Kelley’s writing has been widely published since 2000 in journals including Exquisite…

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