All the nameless men, the Jims and Joes and Davids, at the rail on this training ground. From our vantage point we can not see their eyes, the other girls and I. Light shines against us, but it flows around them leaving their faces blank. It is not for us to see them, not for us to choose.
The sun is in the east, backlighting the slender blond haired woman in ponytail cutoff jeans a lightweight jacket over her torso. One leg is bent at the knee, the other straight. She dangles a cigarette from her right hand….
You drop that little piece of something out the window of the car, covertly, as if to hide it from the driver or anyone who might be watching. As if I were an undercover bicycle cop and the fine for…
I think we should be mindful with language, to know what we are saying before we speak. Everybody knows that words are more powerful than sticks and stones despite the schoolyard litany to the contrary. Bones mend, and if you think that words cannot kill you, then the lessons of history have been lost on […]
Short story posted
We have posted a short story which Patty wrote some time ago about taxi dancing. Here is the link: The Rose Room, 1973 by Patricia J. McLean