Pushing the Knife
My wife goes out to get milk. It is a beautiful day and I’m pleasantly unsure of what to do with it. I see the book I bought her on our honeymoon, a poetry collection. I lie in a sun …
Sunday Night
I got black-out drunk again last night. I only remember scraps.
When we clapped the table to the beat, the forks made tiny chirping sounds against the plates.
In the car I told everybody that we had all lived a …