3.02 / October 2008

I know you’re speaking parenthetically (your secret shared in utmost confidence), but most of what you say’s hyperbole. Your truth is thin, in my experience; your facts are fat. Do you feel neatly purged, your secret shared? In utmost confidence, it’s now my turn: Go—I’ve packed your bags.

She got into the cab on her way to the airport. She sat down and gave her instructions. “To the airport please.” The cab driver mumbled something. From what sounded like far away, she heard music, something from the seventies, Chaka Khan? A tiny, muffled sound: “Ain’t nobody, loves me better than you.

I was glad for the smell from Sheila’s coffee cup; it helped cover up the hospital’s antiseptic tang. The scent of coffee rose from the trash can, too, where I saw more cups. Her hair, long and red, was tangled and snarled; her skin sagged, sallow and dry-looking, off her bones.

51. A hunk’s sibling glad in the sun. 52. Fall in pits as big as your shit. 53. Fall in lakes so as not to make us upset. 54. People named Hank are always technical guys. 55. Is that my turd your cat has in his mouth? 56.