What are you writing?

  No, I shall not look your way, although I might. Not to turn and seek your eyes is a great feat; It is enough to share in this bright bulb light, That bathes us, separated by just one seat.   Yes, I say bathe even though this light is fake, For we¬†share a light…

Crescent

I trod these boards as a boy. Or crept, I should say. The deep carpets still make my toes skitter. Three steps down to the living room. Still exciting, somehow. So much to look at. Everywhere. A crescent within a crescent: rooms arcing to left and right. Embracing warmly, as warmly as the homemaker’s arms….

Expletives

I LONG AND BURN TO WRITE TONIGHT, BUT ALL I CAN MUSTER ARE BLISTERING OBSCENITIES.