On duplicity

It is still cold as I slip out the door. Dark with a slight chill as the sun is starting to creep on the horizon blocked by buildings and trees, and I look across the parking lot to ascertain visibility and look down at myself, wondering how much reflection my clothes will offer and quickly … More On duplicity

On labels

I tuck my lanyard of keys between my running shirt and a lightweight shell, pulling my thumbs though the small holes that make me smile every time. It is not cold enough for a hat, but for me, still cool enough I need something on my head. And so I have pulled out the white … More On labels

On stopping

Her nose is to the ground, rooting in the leaves and dirt, intent on the scent of something as her body propels quietly forward. She pauses occasionally, tail up, face to the wind as if she is catching the trace of something else, and then she noses down again, gently leading me forward. I watch … More On stopping

On authenticity

I am looking at her from across the table, the square corners draped in linen covered with paper, the wide expanse of the restaurant landscape behind her. The static of the others hums behind us, and I see what is happening behind her eyes as one who has been there. She says perhaps the one … More On authenticity

On cannonballs

My feet inch closer on the concrete, and I take in the pale grey of the surface, feeling the rough edges beneath my toes. I move back as I observed the others, thinking a running start is the best and only option for entry. There are signs contraindicating forward motion of this sort, but having … More On cannonballs

On talking sense

  The pile in front of me is approximately ten inches deep, and I continue to stare at it for another five minutes, my hand hovering just above the stack so that it won’t tip over. I pull the most recent document from the top and find myself reading through it again, seeing my name … More On talking sense