shiny things in messy little piles

Category: Stories (Page 1 of 2)

My Life As Your Car Keys

My Life as Your Car Keys
You felt in your pocket
	I wasn’t there
You checked your coat
	I wasn’t there
You asked the guy next to you
	I had been in the corner
You asked the girl in the corner
	I had been in someone else’s hand 

In Autumn

yellow moon
amber mum
question of bridges that go nowhere
smell of paper, hot out of the printer
something golden that 
was alive just yesterday
but today smells newly, richly dead.

First pub­lished in Door is a Jar 


This old man — he played one, he played knick-knack on my thumb.

This old man, my old man, my man, is a long haul truck­er. Here last week, gone this week. Back the week after.

Knick-knack, paddy-whack give a dog a bone. 

I’m singing to the big old hound lying on the kitchen lino. Use­less thing. All sag­gy skin and knob­bly joints any­more. Snuf­flin’ in his sleep after rab­bits he’s nev­er caught. My old man sings that Elvis song to him. Says it’s because Booger is my dog, ain’t no friend of his. Which is why Booger sleeps on his side of the bed when he’s home? I don’t think so. Con­tin­ue reading

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