It takes a primal prairie
need, a kinship with Old Man Winter, with Napi
hunkering in sunless gulches, a longing
for short Fourth of July parades, the bestkept-
secret-café with a waitress
who commutes 50 miles from Malta—
big city with its 5 p.m. rush
Alan W. King CHAGRIN When security escorts a woman back to the register, you hear other shoppers whispering their speculations—the
How long have you been doing this? If I were you, I would have left twenty-five years of shit and
Oh honey, you can text him, you can like his meme, you can follow him on Twitter and to Target,
The worst shift ever begins before the sun goes down, when, with a bead of sweat at the temple, you
I like to pretend I’m a billionaire. It takes the edge off being broke. When I wake up in my