July 2009
2 posts
Jumper
She lives near the top floor of the tall high-rise, in an apartment her friend once described derisively as “post-pubescent and pre-informed”, words she now has tattooed in Victorian script above her left shoulder blade. The homeless man who watches her come and go from the post of his eternal vigil beside the mail drop box thinks of her as Asian, though she is half Puerto Rican and...
Farmer's Market
The farmer’s market was in the middle of strip mall hell. That’s what it’s like around here more often than not. In some abandoned chain store in a suburban area past its prime some ambitious entrepreneur had opened an aesthetically desiccated pragmatist farmer’s market. I turned, deflated at the sight, into the empty parking lot and, controlled by notions of symmetry I...