|DEVICES Anthology | About the Authors | Contents||Wordrunner eChapbooks | March 2016 | echapbook.com|
“It is appallingly obvious our technology has exceeded our humanity.” — Albert Einstein
... she sat aslant in bed, as always, sheet bunched at her waist, allowing me to fondle an unannounced, carelessly dangling breast while she tapped out replies, reviewed videos, evaluated the popularity of today’s recommended anonymous posts. I lose interest, but I fondle nonetheless, as I think that to do so is part of the role I am supposed to play.
Any minute now Joey Denton was going to walk through the door and it was going to explode. This was how it was every morning. Joey walking in, the nightmare from hell descending.
“Peter, how would you like to see America in the future? — by then we may have reached the Pacific sea.” This as casually as if he were soliciting my opinion of the weather.
But there were things her mother didn’t know. She didn’t know that the phone had a name — Rodolfo. And that Rodolfo had his own voice — one that only Faith could hear. “Te amo,” Rodolfo said. “I love you. And if you promise to keep quiet, we can talk to each other for as long as you like.”
I was proposed to four times in my first week. Most were young boys. Most were joking. The one I wrote home to my mother about was a member of the Maasai tribe. He claimed to have killed a lion, after all. And it always works wonders for the self-esteem when a girl knows her exact value in cattle.
... the scan monitor
they’ve invented a new fish, a minnow, a silver-finned slippy thing ...
They could describe the centrifugal blur
oh man I just got a text from her
Do atomic clocks record their thirst for thistle?
For a teenager, home should be a palace
Who knows what trench warfare without an enemy would be like, you just wait faithful that someday there will be one ...
He comes when I call,
I’ll find a good spot in the ancient sea
If person #2 likes aphrodisiacs & eats asparagus
My grandmother held her story of flight
... do not stand next to the poem
the prose poem I Love Karate
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