Luscious pink blobs float the length of the lamp. One elongates, turns into a skull, dies, rises, breaks off into a balloon, drips down, merges with a teardrop, becomes a head on a body, head slides down the body, merges, grows, distends into a tall fish, breaks into balls reaching for each other, thinning, two fingerlets … read more Living like lava
Tag: 1968
At the edge of the pool
There were adults in that swimming pool. Couldn’t they tell the difference between the shrieks of kids playing and the shriek of abject terror from a small girl being chased by a teenage boy? Why did they ignore my cries for help? And some part of me knew that if they didn’t respond while it was … read more At the edge of the pool
Cement truck
On our drive from the mountains to Atlanta, there’s a 10-mile road that has no opportunities for passing other cars. It’s too curvy, too many blind spots. It never fails: In a hurry to get to Atlanta, appointment that we’re trying to make on time – on this road, we will get stuck behind a … read more Cement truck
Day 48: The tiles of oppression
Dad used to joke that it cost $3,000 to have our living room curtains cleaned. After they were dry-cleaned, the newly bright curtains made the rest of the room look dingy. A few months later, they’d bought new furniture, installed wall-to-wall carpet, and bought a TV with a hardwood cabinet. (You could do all that … read more Day 48: The tiles of oppression