Cork

Snakes are fingers, snipped off. Dangling from the car window, when a truck speeds past or with a whoosh, the window lazily slices shut. The fingers, snipped off, roll down the side of the road, curving past the tires, tumbling through the rocks and foliage.

Flux

It wasn’t the clamor of the birds, or the loneliness of the buildings, or even the guilt surrounding the stolen contents of the crates behind me. I had long since convinced myself to stop worrying about these things. It was something in the air—a heavy, sticky feeling. A sense of dread …

Good Love is Hard to Find

The evening service is already in full swing. People sway and sing to the band onstage. Father Francis rocks side to side to the increasingly upbeat music, like a boat in distress. His palms open to the fluorescent ceiling and his eyebrows knit together as he concentrates hard on communing with the creator. As the music hits fever pitch, he shouts, crescendoing, “OH JESUS CHRIST, OH GOD, OH JESUS!”

D-Natural Blues

Then there are folks who form the great majority, those neither lucky nor unlucky. Variance plays a small role in their lives. They walk on gray feet over gray paths through gray zones, unmolested for the most part, achieving neither bracing highs nor crushing lows. Then there are those sorry bastards that Fate likes to set alight with gasoline or sodomize on a regular basis, for sport: the unlucky ones…