Commandments

in
Charles Lennox

1
You shall be well-mannered and say “May I” and “Thank you” and “Please.”

2
You shall be careful. You shall bathe your hands in hand sanitizer gel. You shall look both ways, and then look once more, before crossing the clear street. You shall keep your distance from unleashed dogs.

Underwear I've Worn

in
Stefan Kiesbye

My first memorable underwear was yellow and looked and felt like terrycloth on the outside. These were the 70s and they had a brown waistband. Maybe an aunt bought it for me, a grandmother, my grandmother—I had only one left at that age, like an only limb. I’d never met her husband, my grandfather Willy, bald at age 25, a waiter in an East Prussian café.

Georgia on My Mind

in
Molly Gaudry

1917, an unknown painter poses for a photographer, sometimes nude, sometimes not, she wears a derby before her painting, Blue ii, hands fixed, no, not that way, this way, her hands tell the story, I found I could say things, do you hear, say things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way, her fingers lead the way, things I had no words for

BY THE ARM

in
BARRY GRAHAM

I was following the red brick path that ran along the Ohio River, back up to the sidewalk in front of the Lafayette Hotel. I spotted one of those odd contraptions you stick a quarter in and it lets you see really far away. I’d never actually seen one outside of movies that show people site seeing on top of the Empire State Building.

3 Shorts

in
Darlin' Neal

 

STOP

A young woman waits around a truck stop in a sun dress. She imagines a stampede when the trucks fly past, honking, raising dust. She said, Okay, when her uncle asked for the baby. Okay, okay, okay, she says all the time.

LOL

in
Jimmy Chen

During our penultimate years things were less and less funny, and it became more and more important to laugh out loud, or at least proclaim that one had just laughed out loud during an instant message. The problem was most of what was said wasn’t remotely funny.

The Picture Window

in
Amelia Gray

There once was a woman who lived on the far edge of town, where the houses had courtyards and vegetable gardens. The woman grew a small amount of flowers and vegetables in her garden, a small plot behind her house. The picture window in her bedroom faced the garden, and she spent many happy weekend hours watching the scene.

Be Your Own Boss

in
Larry O. Dean

Downsize yourself;
take a few inches off
from below the knees.
Hobble across the office
and prostrate yourself
before yourself,
weeping uncontrollably.

Princess Feet

in
Jennifer Pieroni

Marie dragged her lawn chair over the grass, which was multiple varieties, none of which grew healthy.

She sat, but didn't want to just look at the new shingles melting in a pile in the driveway, so she turned the chair for a view of Todd on the roof, hiking it in his work boots, jamming nails and laying down the cover.

The daschund established himself in the shade under Marie's chair.

Houseboy Poet Begs Mistress Madge For A Night Off

in
Dennis Mahagin

It's true, with only a crook
of callused forefinger for
hook, I’ve caught my limit
of sky-blue Coho on the Kenai
River, their scaly sequins lingered
on my cuticle slivers for days, and
days, then

when I conjured the Kabuki sex puppets
against a backdrop of weeping willow, Mid-
night Sun and safflower seeds, my busy digits

Three Shorts

in
Meg Pokrass

THE MASK OF POLITENESS

There are whispers about the new young architect; They say he’s brilliant! They found him in Boston. There is a congratulatory Dim Sum lunch the day he arrives.

My fingers flail around the keyboard, botching letters, legal documents. He likes me, hovers near my desk, says he hates his new Los Angeles view. Doing anything Saturday? he asks.

Evisceration Line

in
Erica Plouffe Lazure

That gout attack was a godsend.

My buddies at the plant tell me I should have beat the shit out of my ex long ago, even before things started to go south, but I never did. It might have kept her in check now, like she'd have a taste of what to expect if she ever thought to send the cops my way, asking about her damn truck. Which she did, even though it's a good sixteen years since we've been done and finished with each other.

Dog Park

in
Steven J. McDermott

“What is he, a wino?”
“Roll him over.”
“Whoa, look at the blood.”
“Get his wallet.”
Get your hands out of my pockets! Stop! Move. Can’t. Can’t move! Why won’t my eyes open? So cold.
“Shit, someone done did him already.”
Grrrr-rruff. Grrrr-rruff. Grrrr-rruff. Grrrr-rruff-rruff-rruff.
“It’s that crazy fucking dog!”

Charlie Brown’s Diary: Excerpts

in
Sean Lovelace

Tuesday, February 14, 1958: I wake, and hear the birds coughing. Some dog barking. My coal-smudge eyes sting with sleep. In a hotel near a train station, yawning off Lowenbrau fumes in my zig-zag shirt. Or maybe I lie. Maybe just my yellow room. My parents call, but all I hear is breath and breathing, muffled pipes, misunderstandings—another day stripped, routine as the rain.