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Frankie's GirlOur love went on for nearly a year He won me over with compliments done by phone and would wait for his calls and knew even before he spoke who it was I could feel his breath and got to like that breath on the phone the gasp that came while preparing to speak and in that moment, ecstasy. * The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Poker Erotica
By Lenny DellaRocca
QuailBellMagazine.com
You lean back in the chair.
The smell of pennies excites you, sound of dirty copper splashes across the tablecloth your mother gave Anne makes you wet. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Threadcurls behind my eyes, heats to a glow, becomes autumn leaf, spark, firefly, moonrise. I have no son and so it’s dark… Chocolate studies my tongue with its storm… The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The PartingShe looked up, at a dangling leaf struggling with sap, and sprinted away. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Goat Power
By Raymond Greiner
QuailBellMagazine.com The year was 1923, and the country had been euphoric since the end of the Great War. Alcohol flowed like water, fueling this festive era of drink, dance, and celebration. Enterprise gained traction, adding momentum to the industrial revolution. Manufacturing was on an upward spike, and millions were being made bootlegging liquor from Canada. Prohibition opened a floodgate for crime and corruption. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The House on Lincoln AvenueYou’d laugh if you saw where I live. It was fine when we first moved in, my husband Harry, our eldest daughter Joanie, and then, to our infinite sorrow, Peter. He has the family disease. Summers I sit up on the front porch like a queen reigning over her tiny kingdom of houses. Though not exactly a castle, it’s a large, stately white home with pillars on the front porch. Strong, egalitarian, freshly white-washed by Peter, who serves as my page, I am sorry to say, for he’s never left home. He takes medicine and though it dampens the voices, he’s too frightened to leave Mama’s side. Our neighbor, Carmen Pileggi, the famous landscaper and builder of parks and a little league baseball field, hired Peter to work for him. It did not work out. Peter’s voices got harsher and meaner. When he disappeared one night, and I was wild with fright, the police brought him home at four in the morning. He was sitting on the grass near the railroad tracks. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
1994You, flannel. I, daisy dress and military boots. You Say it bites I just want Winona’s hair. Only then - Hear of the news in Rwanda What are we doing? The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Purple KissesEditor's Note: This poem first appeared in "The Linnet's Wings" Summer, 2015. A burst of a million petals a flurry of fuchsia, the flush on her face. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Five People You Meet in the Pub on Main
1. And you came here because you hate your new Hollister shit, want to drown it in mixed stale smoke and onion B.O. You know The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Tell DaveBased on Bruce Weber’s “Call Dave” Tell Dave to put Vasoline on his crucifix. Tell Dave to put bagpipes in his underwear. Tell Dave to give enemas to snugglebunnies. Tell Dave to wipe his imagination with Windex. Tell Dave to smell the lump. |