A city opened it’s arms to a younger man,
more nervous than he would cop to.
Accepting false bravado.
The city’s women opened their legs to the same man,
shyer than he would admit to.
Buying good-natured cockiness. Read more
There is something romantic about the New York City subway late at night.
I don’t mean romance in the hearts and flowers kind of way. That’s not my romance. That’s a postcard sold by Hallmark and Hollywood.
My romance is dark. And mysterious. Read more
As I stand, waiting, underneath a rare burst of wintertime sunshine, a homeless man, draped in an enormous coat, clutching a beer can inconspicuously cloaked in a wrinkled paper bag, hovers beneath the bus shelter beside me.
Nothing out of the ordinary in this city. Read more
I walked out the gray monument to the sub-standard that I called an office building, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. Four hours of telemarketing… I hated myself for doing it. The endless calls to anonymous people whose voices tensed upon hearing my pewling across the ether. Six blocks between here and the bus stop. Six long blocks I walked every night as the sun kissed the horizon goodnight. I put my head down and began.
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Great story. You did a good job with the dialogue here.February 1, 9:00 am by Anastacia Campbell
