Chuck

I remember at a young age being at Chuck and Mary’s house and seeing the framed picture Chuck had on the wall, a crying man’s fingers trailing over the Vietnam Memorial Wall, his buddy reflected in the smooth stone, still in uniform. I didn’t have a way of conceptualizing any of what Chuck must have gone through at that point. War to me then was … Continue reading Chuck

Open Arms

If you’d have told me two years ago as I was staring at my open arms, open from where I’d cut them, as I was bleeding to death, that two years later I’d be happy, I’d tell you you were a fucking idiot. But you’d be right. They told me later that if it weren’t for the ice cold water that I jumped into after … Continue reading Open Arms

Vieve

Coming out of the suburbs and into the city felt, for him, like grabbing his passport and crossing the border. He came from a shitty suburb, sure, but the culture was night and day. So he’d take walks around the block when film classes would let out, listen in on cell phone conversations and jot down good dialogue for possible future use. Crossing the streets … Continue reading Vieve

Karen

Either you were a civilian, or you were a veteran. There was no in between for Karen. Never knew where the next meal was coming from as a kid? Beer bottles made brown explosions on the wall during fights between M & D? Veteran. Got the crusts cut off from the lunches your mom made you every morning? Taken on annual summer vacations that you … Continue reading Karen

Into the Labyrinth

We wake and stretch and find ourselves together. Lula takes my pages and reads them before I can tell her not to, by buglight, and when she’s done she doesn’t say anything. She puts them away, stands, walks to the far wall, and says Jesus, even though I’m pretty sure she doesn’t believe. I’m pretending I’m more in a stupor than I actually am. She … Continue reading Into the Labyrinth