The French Café
a polyptych of what may have happened after the Martini in Nancy Wilson's Guess Who I Saw Today Prologue: On Reflection Some stories never end - they fade, spoken softly under lamplight, where truth enters quietly, like a draft beneath the door. This one follows three people bound by a single evening: a husband, his wife, and the woman who loved him elsewhere. Their lives unfold not in argument, but in echo - through glass, through memory, through the long light of forgiveness. Each voice stands alone, yet their silences overlap. Like ligh…
The Old Chair - Listening Alone
At the edge of the yard, where weeds choose for themselves how tall to grow, an old chair tilts toward the lilac bush, as if it stopped mid-thought. and never bothered to finish.
Something Wicked to Lincoln Street Comes
Both touched toward fourteen; it almost trembled in their hands. And that was the October week when they grew up overnight, and were never so young any more. - Something Wicked This Way Comes, Ray Bradbury The book was a door that winter.
Headlights
I learned the language of headlights before long division - flat on my back in my Lincoln Street bedroom, watching the walls come alive with passing pieces of the world.
A Son’s Farewell from a German Payphone - 1990
Germany in August smelled like wet stone and cigarettes, the kind of damp that slips down your collar and stays. Even the light looked tired.
