Her corded belt python tight around a tiny waist makes her blooms bigger brighter as they unfold

Young Tim goes to Zaire to write his dissertation in African Studies. While there he meets and marries a beautiful librarian

The last visitor before I sleep is always the old priest puffing up the stairs to my door, a wine cask under each arm, a loaf of pumpernickel in his teet…

What we are not who we are matters to the world. Who we are not what we are

Thunder and lightning at first, as I understand it, and then the moon will split in half and disappear and the stars will go dark

You thought you knew her. She thought she knew you. Neither was true but this happens at times at Happy Hour on Fridays

In the glow of the porch light one moth a final fandango nowhere to go

It’s not Clyde who sleeps in a different doorway every night to avoid the cops and it’s not Wayne who sleeps in the

She speaks the truth as she always has in 40 years of marriage especially when she’s lost in making dinner

In a very crowded bar Fred decides he must tell this fellow something important so he whispers

The old poet has agreed to read his poems in Hanley Hall if a student will push his wheelchair on stage. Agreed. And students must agree not to ask

He slaughters his hamburger steak with a fork and a butter knife, massacres ringlets of onions again and again thumps catsup all over

Someone has to cut the grass Molly tells Bill dozing off in his recliner too weary to cut it. For years a vet from Vietnam

An hour a day, sometimes more, I chipped away with mallet and chisel on a block of marble

You see things at the rest home you don’t expect to see. New veteran in his Korea cap is whipping everyone else in pool. He never has to bend over