He was on a student visa from Switzerland learning English. I helped him with slang, and he taught me French.
A Bushy Mustache and a Tight Pair of Jeans
The Graffiti Artist
Josh pressed the nozzle of the spray-paint can and concentrated on the hiss as he sprayed a golden line on the side of the boxcar. Amongst the stationary metal behemoths that frequently acted as his canvases in the train yard, he painted in peace. Just him, the blank walls of metal and that satisfying hiss.
A Random Collection
Twenty years married Our lovely Mrs Smith Had a million and one hobbies To please Uncle Smith. From six in the morning Till the late afternoon She spent away baking, Cooking, and cleaning spoons...
Sack as a Unit of Measurement and Four Other Poems
Midas Itch
Add your own voice to the chorus The heckling harmony Shrieking oxygen-deprived squall Pockets full of liquid smoke Drenched denim from crotch to knee A little capsaicin in the air, on your fingertips Brings the burn with each careless touch The Midas itch to join in, to be drowned out...
How Far We Went Down This Road
Soon after our wedding, Raj’s employer offered him a transfer to Seattle, providing us an escape from family tensions even though I had to resign from my IT job. Driving us to the airport, you were your usual jokey self, but when I caught sight of your eyes reflected in the rearview mirror, the sadness in them punched a hole in my gut. At the airport, my heart trembled at the way the tearful hug between you and Raj stretched on. “I’m going to miss you, too,” I whispered.
Unheard Voices
“Please, stop,” she begged Mr. Turner. “You must realize what a story like this could do to me. It’s not like the other rumors you spread about me, like how I enjoy taunting our servants, or that I put my sewing needles in your shoes. Or worst of all,” she closed her eyes once more, “that I snuck worms into the pies I brought to the orphanage. I can’t show my face there ever again, and you know how much I loved serving there.”