Listen, kid: I’ve got a list of names as long as the Nile to get through and they sure as hell ain’t paying me overtime.
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If I feign weakness, we can feel special together. He will feel like a man. I’ll wait to laugh until he leaves.
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Moses
is in the rushes,
stillborn.
I was always such a picky eater as a child, the mere thought of trying new foods would make me so nervous and scared that I would cry sometimes.
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No, this ain’t ma and pa’s field. Not really a field at all.
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As soon as Harriet entered the building, she headed to the seventh floor. When she reached a spot halfway up the fourth-floor stairs, the explosion—a flash of red light followed by a blast of burning-hot air—threw her body against the wall.
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I surrender a poem instead into your steady palm,
which lies open on my thigh, waiting.
Work Ethic and I
are at a crowded Penn Station,
standing in front of the Big Board,
waiting for our track to flash.