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Bottles
turtledove
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Not tonight but tomorrow,
in the morning,
while you're all still asleep.

Those wild animals roaming
around Ohio, big jungle beasts on the kill? (more)
no, wait . . . a little to the . . . wait . . .
that's . . . no, wait . . . a little to the . . . no, wait . . .
higher . . . a little  . . . wait . . .(more)
Six Ways of Looking at Me Learning to Play the Fiddle:

      A meteor crashes to earth, destroying everything except for the
      room in which I am playing the fiddle. A second meteor arrives to
      finish the jo(more)
I'll be a cat with nine concurrent lives

The last of a rich dessert, saved to be
eaten in the morning for breakfast

The forgotten dollar bill tucked (more)
If I hadn’t gone to Catholic school . . .

picked out that damned ring . . .

bought that Chevy Vega . . .
(more)
For her birthday, my daughter wanted a wedding cake.

Not one of those art project cakes, though, sculpted in thick fondant and airbrushed into an exact replica of a limousine parked in front of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. She wanted something more old school. Six tiers, white frosting, yello(more)
Some kind of Paradise
is waiting for me,

where grass grows out of
the carpet in thick buds,
(more)
In department stores, in commercials, in
tacky parades, selling everything from dolls
to lottery tickets to bottles of scotch.

A creature of infinite mirth, his smile
so radiant he seems to have come straight (more)
That question of the glass being half empty or half full . . .

I remember when I’d grown up a little, and thought I was being clever by asking, “What’s in the glass?” Then I got a little older and even more clever, and answered, “What’s th(more)
We were beautiful,
the four of us,
racing across
that soccer field,
high on mushrooms,
(more)
He stood in the Starbucks line, saw the candy canes at the registers, the snowflakes on the paper cups, and thought about Shirley Temple. A lustrous alchemy of talents, she was -- singing and dancing her way across movie screens seventy feet wide, no less a genius than Marconi(more)
Chubby was gone again. He’d run away three times already that month. Usually he ended up downtown, at The Shank. He wasn’t allowed in, but the bouncer was cool and let him hang out with him outside the bar.

All this running away was getting to be a(more)
Everyone got their cars repaired at Scottie’s. The first naked women I’d seen were at his garage. The walls were covered with calendars showing cuties in see-through robes and topless bikinis. I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. Still, even though I was only seven, I understood they were(more)
I was drawn to the canvas in my twenties, digesting Matisse reproductions in books, Durer drawings, the vast output of Goya and Klee. My own style is reminiscent of the early German expressionists, Schmidt-Rotloff and Heckel and Otto Dix. I paint in slabs of color, violets and greens as(more)
Lost in the chaos
of the birds and bees
is this beautiful truth:

You get two first kisses.
(more)