It’s on the left and bent left, damned thing, by a shape of my vanity’s blue boot. Am I not left enough? Behind these blue boots are rough unsuede shoes— would have marched to Selma in my fashion-faded denim red; but something else was going on that day. It wasn’t bunions or anybody’s else’s business … Continue reading Bunions
How it’s here puzzles him— here under exhibit glass and lights, his old, lost marbles taw?!
Back in the day Doreen was quite busty and an on-her-back young lusty; but the bust drooped, and the back stooped, and now Doreen is an upright old fusty. Darrel was a boasty young lust sparking Doreen for her bust; but the lust went gloppy and Doreen went floppy. Now Darrel’s an crusty old fust.
May knew that it was unlikely that she was seeing Mickey. He’d been dead these twenty years. But she was pushing her walker over the threshold between the bedroom and the living room, feeling the deep ache in her hands and knees, and there Mickey was standing on the porch peering in through the shadows … Continue reading The Invitation
A wintering of her mind churns the gone familiars of ninety-two years? Posted in response to the Ragtag Community Daily Prompt cyclone.
-Visit mom in hospital -Pick up my C-PAP Those sun lit mountain peaks—so far way
He was looking down at her mailbox, at the address there, nodding his head the way a person does who has found what he is looking for and now has no idea what he is going to do with it. At first Joanie thought he was just some tramp who had wandered a bit far … Continue reading Home is Where
old man’s eyes flatline over winter drifts in empty aspen grove.
Snow sifting through thorns:: old couple:: no need to speak of odor of roses.
Once, back in the day a skinny, flat chester had rammed her knee into his crouch. That had hindered things.