Politics

I hear a knock from the cellar and call on Ego to answer the door: “Money for the poor?” a young man ponders, “What am I doing here?” and the door is shut, hands still warm.   I can handle up to six hundred dollars at a time, enough for rent, some shoes, wine ifContinue reading “Politics”

The Fight

I once thought of life as a screen. Shakespeare had his stage. Silverstein, some blue skin. Entirely hidden.   A teardrop in a lake. We all have our moments.  The daunting school hallway at ten. The basement party at twenty.  The busy conference room at thirty. But I don’t want to hide. I don’t have anythingContinue reading “The Fight”

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