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After The Fire

The morning after the fire, I clear away the outdoor chairs and tables and barbeque and whatever else doesn’t belong in the kitchen to where it does belong until I can see the floor, which I wash with bath towels soaked with water and then

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what carries me

Are you? Am I?

I didn’t even know the show was happening, not until a few days ago, when my friend told me he had an extra ticket. I knew the band, of course.
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When I Was 11

I’d almost eclipsed my Pitfall high score on the Intellivision when my mom yelled up the stairs. We were leaving early for the 4th of July festivities at the local golf course,
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My mom used to make pancakes on Sunday mornings. Not long ago, I found her recipe in a drawer, typed on her old stationary, with Mrs. Woodard printed in fancy
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He lumbered along the pavers, under the eaves at the far corner of the house, closer to home with each small step. At least I think he was a he.
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She took a chance on me. Maybe more like a calculated risk. Not that I’m a loose cannon, of course. But this corporate summit, for one of the most iconic
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Disguised As Love

  Here I am, on an airplane. I’ve been flying throughout this pandemic, and haven’t really been worried about catching anything. Until now. Am I concerned about the guy across
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