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A lawn picnic
An exile reflects on aging neighbors, a distant mother, illness, and the quiet erosion of time in a neglected townhouse complex.
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An exile reflects on aging neighbors, a distant mother, illness, and the quiet erosion of time in a neglected townhouse complex.
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It’s Here I thought it was in the family room, so I cried at the bus stop. The Christmas tree lived there, with ornaments formed from salt dough and my…

I would have had a pack safety in numbers. I would have roamed without fear lived between the trees dreaming of cloud-covered sheep asleep on the hillside. I would have…

The desert told me of the sea that used to be there. Opened her heart, gave me her shells. Told me of her water flowing. Told me of their past…

“I’m surprised you didn’t sit at the famous Round Robin oval bar,” Ted said, nodding over his shoulder at the dark reddish oak bar. A row of cocktail tables with…

It’s that triangle of apprehension between your shoulder blades and the nape of your neck, which senses the unseeable presences that stalk with ravenous intent—the weaponized drone hovering high in…

A month of Sundays passed before Floyd ventured out to play in public. On clear warm days, residents would find him sitting on a park bench next to Jessie and…

I’m strolling through the busy downtown area, Beethoven sonatas chortling like trees full of evening birds into my ears, while the colours and gestures I see everywhere seem incongruous but…

On August 4th, 1964, the FBI discovered the bodies of Chaney, Schwerner, and Goodman buried under a newly made dam on a nearby farm. David remained in Mississippi until most…