January 18, 2019
Really an Asshole
Hank Williams lies in bed, asleep.
The walls of his room – the color of white eyes after a near death experience – stare at him, unblinking and intense, watching as the last of the black weather finally passes from his head like a slow-dying, mental fog.
As soon as the black weather disappears, a knock comes from the door.
January 15, 2019
Abram, a retired olive farmer in his late 70s, still enjoys a glass of Arak in the evenings, Turkish coffee in the mornings (made with the cezve pot he bought when he was poor and alone) and when his children come to visit for Shabbat. His children are not really his children; their father is the handsome Palestinian man his wife has kept chained in the backyard shed for fifty years.
January 5, 2019
Why do they ask me to tell stories when we’re lying in the dark? The stories are supposed to get them in the door. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what to do with my arms once we’re finished. I must appear standoffish or awkward. I never know what to say while contemplating the placement of my arms, either.
I look up into space for uncomfortable amounts of time.
December 31, 2018
You’re drinking at the bar you always drink at and you’re worried about her.
You’re checking your phone every few minutes, sipping from a tall beer that isn’t helping at all.
You decide you need something stronger, so you look around at the other regulars.
You like this bar because the people that come here have given up, just like you.
Drinking equivalent to opening their skulls and dumping the booze in,