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The field wants to stretch the hours, wants to be empty for us.

Judging beauty, which is keenest, Eye or heart or mind or penis?

Her lips had the scent of the first kiss, and a thirst for justice.

A body must learn again how to accept the proprietorial hands of a lover.

What was he, twenty, no, twenty-two years younger than me.

Every voice an epitaph, and then a little tune from the neighbor’s yard.

I’d chosen three hundred boys out of the best Israel had to offer.

so this god is only wood and holes, a blank, like the moon’s unlit side.

“Some men’re like that. They have to see what they’re missing.”

I wanted to ask what her secret was but I was too busy knitting socks.

We’ve tried, but it seems it is in the stars for us to hate each other.

Hands that have waved farewell, sooner or later I will see them again.

Will you bless us, who are so in need of blessing? The world tires.

She’s innocent, guilty of nothing but the need to be admired.

You know how good she has always been at hiding herself.

The mirror will flow and the heart will set like glass in the frame of his bones.

After days of torture in secret prisons, they were about to let him go.

It’s all good,” Mila says, meaning, it’s so not, her voice glass-like.

This is what he must have felt when she told him about her affair.

At straight-up noon, the honeymoon was ruined, one day in.

The Human Comedy: Four new six-word stories by Sherman Alexie.

These six-worders work in a strict three-act structure, like screenplays.

With no words to speak about our love, we’re each one more alone.

It’s all that I have left of “the old country,” as my mother calls it.

Gurov reflected, “it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make her acquaintance.”

My mother’s city and I were both named after an assassinated king.

Now, with new orders to carry out, he’d been restored to factory settings.

Clark and Robertson got a reset, and Tuyen would get a baby. But Mikey?

L’chaim. To lives both bygone and ongoing, and to the truths I choose to believe.

I think you might have turned into a novelist, if we’d been allowed to go on.