Manicurist’s Satori

By James, on October 6th, 2009%

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She is in the passenger’s seat of her car. On break and pushing down her cuticles with the edge of a blackened penny. The oppressive air is a medley led by piss her cat left on his final trip to the vet and winter snowfall which slipped through loose-wound windows, melted and mildewed. The closed . . . → Read More: Manicurist’s Satori

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Pinioned

By James, on September 9th, 2005%

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Phil, the foreman, starts his truck and it coughs with the exhausted guttural roar of a lifelong smoker. Wheels waist high spray gravel back into aluminum siding, into my face. Noontime traffic in this part of town, I’ve got fifteen minutes before he returns. Black-smeared, paint-spattered arms will cradle foot-long grinders and Gatorade for associates . . . → Read More: Pinioned

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