whatever is interesting
in these places
is always happening
somewhere else
and i am a settler
not usually a seeker
the private theater
i conjure
through impairment
a trick of inebriation
decades in the making
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the white horse tavern has gone to the dogs By John Grochalski
you can’t even get inside because there’s some fat lady blocking the door eating a caesar salad with dressing on her chin tourists crowd th...
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Ice pops. Can you believe it? He replaced me with ice pops. Me, and . . . booze. Soon’s he quit drinking, my husband Ricky froze, like...
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lemonade hair dead and deflated thin like a bleached ghost; mascara rings fat as a star pitcher’s eyeblack; she cracked her broken finger ba... -
Once he spoke the indirect speech of men, as if making bar bets after third drinks that become sincere, become angry, mean. Just his half jo...
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