It’s All Greek to Me
First date idea: picnic on the crumbling steps of the
Parthenon. They take reservations, you ask. Hermes was a Nike guy, I ask. How
does our favorite short story writer keep her old horse car running? We
theorized into the twilight. You tossed back grapes and shouted at the other
tourists: Tremble mortals! That made me laugh so hard, I cried a river. You
pulled an oar out of your purse, the work already done.
Eine kleine Yachtmusik
I long hauled my grudge cross-country, through the laurel hells of North Carolina, and onto the boat.
“You’re joking guys, right?” the assistant director kept saying.
Lord, let me log off, but not yet.
We Do Parties
A conga line shuffled across a high-rise tightrope. That man,
Nate pointed, that man is too old to be the caboose. When the man fell a minute
later, Frank changed the channel.
Raising a gentle hell, just a guy staring out a window.
“Followed by years of lead” is a phrase you can add to the end of any paragraph.
Don’t rub another man’s rhubarb. Infamous prices at the steakhouse.
Night by night, I’m building a little empire.
It was Dante in hell
with the tag to Beatrice for a flying dropkick.
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