FICTION

“Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth.”
Albert Camus
Theoretical Debate

On the first day of our new life together, my husband realized that I was not interested in theoretical debate. He said it was okay by him and went out to get some pancake mix.

Greetings From Baja California!

Sitting at the bar on Pacific Avenue. With the seashells in the walls. Same bartender from last year, still here, making the same lethal Mai Tais.

The Rift

None speak of how the streets collide in coarse seams like scars, the fresh cobbles unable to level with the ones shaken from their mortar by uncountable seasons.

salt lake
Climb The Highest Mountain

When I was on earth I was a pretty good kid. I only got drunk when I needed to get drunk.

sun in clouds
The Rapture

I don’t know why I was still talking about the rapture. I certainly didn’t believe in it. Regardless, it remained a thief…

graffiti on cement
Slabs

We drifted junk with a sledgehammer looking for juice. Sometimes the rage.

What Did I Mention To Ya?

Ever since your son brought you here, things have been different. He was crying when he dropped you off. You still don’t know why.

Junk

It was spring and the hills were irradient, like they had to get out all their green in one short burst before catching fire.

rotarty phone
My Wife’s Phone

Sex is not a thank you card in this house.

dead roses
The Cycle

It all started with the curse of my tits. Women’s bodies are cursed. Everyone tries to look at them, everyone tries to ignore them.

The Drift

And then he feels that familiar sensation of drifting—when his body untethers from the material world and he soon dissolves into a fine, floating mist that evaporates into the atmosphere.

Darkness always follows.

The Rupture

Before the headaches began, I thought myself sturdy: firm in my foundations, set square like a saltbox house.

Dead History

Another image rises to us both: A man hunched before a TV, watching historical documentaries, correcting incorrect facts. Rasputin was not a priest, damn it.

Oppressive and Certain Decay

I pushed my nose to within an inch from the rug. I sniffed, and sniffed, and I smelled something…not quite right, but I couldn’t place it.

Out of the Harbor and Into the Open Sea

I’d never heard of anyone having a second baby right after the first one, but everything was so strange in those early days of motherhood that I just acted on instinct.

forest fire
When The Ten Thousand Ton Trilobite Attacked

We said, Heck, that’s really something.

When Robin Hood Was Caught Dead To Rights

and on and on and on and on they ran, the Merry Men, running from a hundred and one arrows bought with taxes stolen twice over…

A Eulogy For the Boy I Don’t Love

The most entertaining thing about Miguel is that when he was 13 he dislocated his shoulder playing basketball and can now pop it in and out of place. There is nothing particularly interesting about Miguel.

Your Glass Mouth

A tortured simper uncoils itself across my mouth as I open another bottle of Penis wine.

Demolition

I feel somewhat bad about using the death of my father as an excuse to prolong my trip.

Share some abandon.