The Parting Glass

Maybe I should have slept with her. The thought crept up on me at the funeral. The burial, specifically. The only part I attended. It was probably the right thing to do.


You weren’t supposed to sleep on the bus. Most everyone did anyway. All you had to do was turn the radio up just about as loud as it would go. You would know that they were calling you because of the tone. A special and specific beep. Just for us. The sound was plenty loud…

To Whom It May Concern,

I’d gotten old. Didn’t take long. Hair once dark and thick turned grey and thin. Eyes sunk right into the skull. Hallowed looking sockets. The shine all but gone. Fevered and enveloped in deep violet. Violently. Wrinkles line the outline of a frown. “A clown without the makeup,” my reflection said. “The sad jester of…

Not Nearly Forgotten

     He was nearly an old man, or so he thought.      She was hardly any younger.      Both had been successful.      Both had been married.      Both divorced.