HOW LEAVING HOME WORKS I need highways, infrastructure that can differentiate between the town where I grew up and the place I need to be. And a Ford that’s up to it, getting on but faithful, its leather bucket seats faded from their prime, but radio rock stations all preset and fifty times louder than the engine. Blacktop, […]
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YOU HAVE A PIER IN ME – By John Grey Pier juts far into the open sea. It makes its point, not here, where stone steps lead from sand to calm wooden planks but out at the very tip of itself, where water crashes against its pylons and its slim foundations shake and shudder. Like me, there’s a calm that […]
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HOW I KEEP FIT – By John Grey The sidewalks in the city are like exercise equipment. There’s a mix of long strides on the cement treadmill and the shorter, quicker gait of the elliptical workout. A few stand at the street corner, stationary pedaling while waiting for the lights to change. Some hoist brown briefcase dumbbells. Others try the […]
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HOW I KEEP FIT – By John Grey The sidewalks in the city are like exercise equipment. There’s a mix of long strides on the cement treadmill and the shorter, quicker gait of the elliptical workout. A few stand at the street corner, stationary pedaling while waiting for the lights to change. Some hoist brown briefcase dumbbells. Others try the […]
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HOW TO BREAK SNOW – By John Grey Something foreign helps, armored vehicles adorned with unfamiliar grim-faced eagles rolling down white slopes, and explosions in the distance, close at hand – loud red, even louder black, instant thaw. No tool more expedient than soldiers pounding on a door, the path more hob-nailed print than even sheen, roof and eaves cascading […]
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THE STUDS IN THE BAR – By John Grey Rosalie is at the bar thinking – who’s next? Then two extravagant, exaggerated beings enter, one behind the other, like stallions, heads high, tails swishing, threaten to pull the floor out from under the regular male patrons with their jangling gold, French cologne, and styled hair flopping on the brow like […]
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MEET THE MADNESS A Providence twilight, late November, every man and woman dressed in gray, sliding in and out of panels or emerging from dark recesses, all faces plain, hair drab, eyes shut, tongues muted, and there, high up in the skyscrapers, mouths in windows pause mid-shriek, as, down by the riverside, water rats crack on scattered bones […]
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MISS JULIE-ANNE – By John Grey She pours drops of whiskey on the withered rose petals. Then wields the hose with a cigarette flopping from her lower lip. What doesn’t intoxicate her flowers, she drinks. Ashes fall onto the buds. The bees will have to suffer for their pollination. She passes the graves of all her cats, apologizes […]
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DEAR SPIDER – By John Grey Ants are more efficient at what they do than people. Weeds can grow just about anywhere. Animals kill to survive not for pleasure. And they collect no gewgaws besides. A homeless man sits on the pavement, holding up a sign, with a cup before him that’s hungry for coins. Most people stride on […]
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