Her fingerprints were on every relic found in my archaeological dig through memory.
Portraits From The Gallery of My Mind
Hate you? No. I’m just the guy who works at the circus with the shovel. Today, you’re on my shovel.
Bobby The Bastard
He waited for her return the way a song waits for a singer.
A South Philly Story
I’m certain I would have died at Auschwitz, but God forgot where he left me.
Cul-de-Sac
Intimacy may be avoided by either telling your story to no one or to everyone.
Magic Revisited
Intimacy remembered is not intimacy.
Magic Revisited
At the cemetery, holding his hand, I didn’t know whether I was crying for someone I’d lost or for someone I’d found.
Sweeter Than Justice
There’s so much I’d like to do over but so little worth repeating.
Magic Revisited
Predict the future? I can’t even predict the past with certainty.
Sweeter Than Justice