You weren’t in a box
the army sent home from aboard.
Or those epics that Hollywood turned out.
You were simply a prime example
of knowing how to follow orders.
You were no housekeeper
but you could iron a uniform
so that no crease showed
and you sure could fold a flag.
You may not have known
where the bodies are buried
but you remember where they fell.
You bedded down in trenches.
You crossed a field
knowing full well that it was mined.
You polished your shoes while afraid.
You clung to your rifle when homesick.
In action, your thoughts were of home.
At home, your thoughts were of action.
You never complained.
Except about the rations.
You didn’t know he was just a boy.…
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This millennium has grown too old for the world. As have you, my darling.
Outside, the street crackles with excitement; packed with revellers, dancers, grilled chicken, doughnuts, drums, poppers, horns, and a million streamers and balloons. A conga line weaves through the crowd. Glow sticks whirl in a galaxy of motion.
I shut the window and sit down beside you. I draw back the sheet to check your temperature. Your chest barely tells the rise and fall of life. You’ve been splintered with illness and treatment, dismantled and reconstructed. When your health could no longer be rebuilt, you were reduced to apologies and pitying looks.
You will always be magnificent to me.…
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early before daybreak I wander through our house, the
floorboards creak to remind me that you died
I look for your silhouette, hear ice in your glass
and feel your hands sliding across my bare back and thighs
I may never feel that I was enough
our discord longed for the hours and days of
perfectly timed harmony
the line of your jaw and depth of your need
left me reeling every time, you shook your head and told
me there was no one quite like me
in the night I still wait for you, quietly
pushing away your last photograph
I try not to remember the way your voice sounded, and
regret that I couldn’t tell you about Jim Harrison
– Heather Brager…
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If I’d put together that the wormy son of a bitch scarcely met Al’s description of the buyer, probably didn’t have a nickel to his name, and likely was, in truth, a vagrant junkie, maybe I wouldn’t have come to in the basement of an abandoned department store, ass going numb on cold linoleum, arms twisted and bound around a support beam. Maybe I wouldn’t have Louisville Slugger tattooed to my scalp, the sickening crack of wood against bone still thundering in my ears. And maybe things wouldn’t have turned into a total clusterfuck. Too many maybes, I know, I know, I conceded to her. Her silence belied her disappointment. Yeah, big surprise, I growled some more, another goddamned wrong turn. She remained cool, though, impassive. …
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The ABV of a bottle of Luxco Everclear is 75.5%. It sounds like a lot, sure. It sounds like a lot more when you’re on your fourth cup of it. You’re drinking this stuff, with its 75.5% ABV, because maybe you just broke up with your girlfriend. That vicious one, the one named after a beer (good luck trying to order a Miller Lite after that). Or maybe, you just got your first failing grade in college, and you don’t know how it happened. You were sure—let’s say, 75.5% sure—that you would pass. You rarely felt like going to class, but you did all the online assignments, and you were there for every test at least. But you failed. Or maybe, it’s the day after your roommates moved out, and you have only a few weeks to find a new place to live.…
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I was on a bus with some old ladies,
driving really fast
because the border was closing.
The bus pulled into an empty lot
surrounded by trees,
and the trees were blown to bits,
and I thought We’ll just have to run for it
to make it through on time.
I ran to the store
to get some bread rolls,
and the store was blown to bits,
and I thought Oh, it has started,
I gotta get those rolls.…
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i haven’t always been upfront with you, esp. when it comes to sex. sure, it’s totally natural, and so what’s there to be embarrassed about, right? well. if you haven’t already guessed, i prefer to keep some things private. or at the very least, just between me and the person i’m sleeping with. still, i set out to tell you the truth about chloë and me, and so and though i can’t say that i’m totally comfortable with what i’m about to tell you, i’m just going to come out and say it, just so you know.
so what now, then, huh?…
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