Dark trees clothe hills that rise up from the lake. Reeds grow thick and tall around the water’s edge standing in mud that’s moist and thick like cake. The dull roar of the freeway is softened by a dusty hedge. Angry yellow jackets maraud a hamburger at the edge of a table while a mother […]
The smell of apples seeps under the bedroom door. For weeks, hundreds of apples have sat in brown paper bags on the kitchen floor. This morning, coddling moth larvae hung from the kitchen counter on silken strings. Trying to hold on to summer, a worm clutches my finger, he clings. A strong flick of the […]
A mother kneads lotion into her hands as she sits. The daughter sits, stands, sits. She whispers to her mother, “Shkdshkdiditdshdkkshdk”. Her whispers rub the raw nerves of the waiting room. She stands, sits, stands. “Shkdshkdiditdshdkkshdk”. Mother squeezes more lotion into her hands. Sits, stands, sits. “Shkdshkdiditdshdkkshdk-ooh”. The door opens: “Martha Chung, Martha Chung”. The […]
Hot, quick, mulled with brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg, served stiff and firm with buttered toast at 6 AM— just before leaving for Camporee. My father’s long, tired face, punctuated by a crooked smile that was crimped on by a long graveyard shift, looks on with satisfaction while his son finishes a bowl of oatmeal.
When people were ugly, they grew long scraggily beards, didn’t shave their armpits, burned bras and smoked pot. When people were ugly, they believed the revolution would not be televised, taxed the rich at 70%, fought for civil rights and solar power. Too bad everyone now believes, only that they must be beautiful.