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by Dennis Must
I miss Betty.
She knew how to repair cars, hang doors, and finish cement. She enjoyed barroom banter, salacious jokes, and pitching softball. Allison's father admired her, too. Virtually incompetent with his hands, he worked with his head. He didn't like to get dirty; she did, happiest when her face and clothes were smudged with axle grease. He'd have a martini at sundown; she'd open a beer. An unlikely pair sitting next to each other on the western deck, watching darkness descend into the Cape's scrub oak and tortured pine.
I Killed Hemingway
by Ulf Ronnquist
July 6, 1961
The thing I like least about electric shock is the smell.
by Sherry Hewett
Oh god, the words
by J.B. Mulligan
Darking, tea-steeped sky, gustery
October wind, moist with suggestion,
questions that the trees behind the house
discuss, answers debated and rejected
like leaves. What have we done?
What remains of it? For we are gone.
Donny Does E-mail
by John Rothfork
Note: You should start with the first five poems.
got a cell phone yet?
they got phones in the slam now?
aint put up bond for call-blocking yet
whod I wanna beam up?
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