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In Astoria, Leo and I find a small church on our way to the river.

A question will render in a throat before blowing out its socket.

Michelle dances on his forehead like an imp, like an illness in motion.

When we move together in the dark I can almost get to him but I turn back.

Like a bird with a broken wing I will smudge the line of the hopscotch.

Tobias Wolff

Outside the kids play stretcher. One of them was dying between my hands.

Had he been a man, we could’ve saved his life right then and there.

What would you say about the driver of the truck that killed you?

Six-word stories about the the perplexities of love and desire.

On the swings in the park, a woman sounds an off-key minor chord.

If he was cheating on her, he was cheating on her paintings as well.

You put his hand around your throat but he keeps moving it away.

On the other side of Paris an exhibit depicts their home, which is nowhere.

there was a boy made of bad teeth & a boy made of stale bread

Sex is the closest we can come to touching where touch resides.

Eyes wide open, I offer myself to a new boy and watch him grow.

“Dorm whores” his roommate calls them. They come for the booze.

He finds the note taped to the lid of the toilet: “There’s someone else.”

He had dreamed of being a front-runner, someone who changed lives.

Grief is a rude houseguest. She stays up late. She leaves messes.

This so far is a haunting, the bleeding heart we used to hear about.

Summer’s erosion has begun, all that taking the waves from shore.

Her appearances are fleeting, a gust of air, a murmur in the night.

Gravity bends together this planet and your life, made of glass.

Poor boy, he only wanted to love some man—who knows who?

Grandma was forced to break her vow of silence only three times.

The band was amateur at best. It didn’t matter. People loved them.

They come to America and their child is shot down like a wild animal.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Drowning people will do anything for air.