All posts in "NY Stories"

Word Play

Published November 29, 2017 in Cintusia , Jack Sprat , NY Stories - 0 Comments

 

Word Play2“A hard-on is not chemistry”, Cynthia said,

Hands on hips.

“Damn it!” he thought.

“So close and she has to get all

definitiony. Fuck!”

“You’re right, baby.” he said apologetically.

“Don’t ‘you’re right baby’, me.”

“I’m driving you home.” she said.

Somehow she hit every green light

on the avenue.

Jack couldn’t catch a break.

Wild Animal Collectors

Published July 8, 2017 in NY Stories , Ruth - 0 Comments

Wild Animal Collectors

Heir to a king’s ransom.

Sometimes it’s hard to figure out how to spend it.

Liked to collect things, especially odd, wild beasts.

Bought a pack of wolves for a rooftop in Tribeca,

Amazing what you can find on the internet, impulsively.

They were skin and bones when Ruth found them,

shivering in the cold.

In the Morning

Published June 28, 2017 in NY Stories , Rebecca - 0 Comments

In the Morning

Two folding chairs in the garden behind the barn.

The beginning of the two of them.

The first time of many times that would lead to:

Black and white photographs,

4 kids, a loft in Little Italy,

and finally, a failed business, bankruptcy,

foreclosure and the end of them.

Two chairs spotted in the shade

Absent Minded

Published June 17, 2017 in Jack Sprat , NY Stories - 0 Comments

Absent Minded

Smelling jasmine flowers as he walked by the barking dogs.

Jack remembered her laughing from the back of the cab.

Grabbing his hand and pushing it under her dress.

Smiling and encouraging him to misbehave.

It was a long time ago,

but he could still see her polka dot dress

and white elbow length gloves.

200 Thread Count

Published June 13, 2017 in Max , NY Stories - 0 Comments

200 Thread Count

Monica came from Munich with the baby.

And she was already pissed off.

Complained about the sheets and the pillow cases.

Max hired a cleaning lady to clean the whole house and washed the bedding two times.

She insisted, “It still smells like man head!”

Cologne was out of the question, her head would’ve exploded.

Dumbfounded

Published May 22, 2017 in I Don't Even Know , NY Stories - 0 Comments

Dumbfounded

Stood on the sidelines in the biggest moment of their careers.
Waited for inspiration from their coach.

“There’s a gleam, men! Go out and get that gleam!”

Puzzled expressions, slowly joined hands.

“Gleam on 3!”
“One, two, three, gleam!”

No one could bring themselves to ask
what the hell the coach was talking about.

Mother’s Day

Published May 14, 2017 in NY Stories - 0 Comments

Mother

After all the years cooked in the kettle of time,

things aren’t much different from day one, dog one.

Your thoughts still make your actions,

your actions still decide your destiny.

And the way you treat your mother will always

be a measure of you.

Thanks to her you have life,

unpolished as it is.

The Proof is in the Pudding

Published April 30, 2017 in Julian , NY Stories - 0 Comments
The Proof is in the Pudding

A 55 word story about a former boxer who takes an ayauasca trip.

The ayahuasca trip was the worst experience of his life.

Yet Julian was eager to do it again.

The mental anguish was unbearable, took him to the breaking point.

When he was a golden glove, he loved the week before the fight when he reached his absolute limit.

Walked to the end of the edge.

////////////////////////////////

Some of us like to push ourselves to the limit.

Frenchy

Published April 25, 2017 in NY Stories - 0 Comments

 

Frenchy2

Said he played guitar for Patty LaBelle.

Spoke with pride about his son.

College bound, such potential.

Then the son was killed by a cab jumping the curb.

With the sympathy he got free meals, drinks galore, cash, a social security number and a new identity.

The funeral was invented, it was all a con.

Ode to Bread

Published March 12, 2017 in NY Stories - 0 Comments

Ode to Bread2Even gluten free and ugly it speaks to me.

Of mornings filled with hope and evenings frenzied and lifted with laughter.

When the cold air makes leaving bed a contest.

You and I lay together with butter on our breath, tea and toasting a memorable now.

Let’s bake another loaf before our time has passed.