Sleeping on Otis’ Floor

“Goodnight, asshole,” John says. I see the meaty ghost of his shadow collapse below street-lit window blinds. I hear him thud. He groans like...

My friend, Fernando

“Why is my wine always at the end?” said my friend, Fernando. “Because you drink too much,” I said. “I don’t drink too much at one...

The Fog

I had an experience once, riding in a Buick and winding up in San Francisco. It was 1962 and I hardly recall what we...

Grab Bag

Palpable