The bathroom door closes slowly–the triangle of harsh light thins to gray as my lover shuts himself in. Only seconds before, Ralph whispered in my ear as I lay beside my son on the hotel bed watching a rerun of Miami Vice. I felt the …
I walk down the street – my eyes feel swollen, my lips are raw. I’m accosted by secretaries on their way to lunch, delivery men unloading boxes, babies in strollers pushed by nannies. Each person I pass stares though me. They see the strappy black …
Listen to some short shorts from Matt Brigg's new collection.
I’m on the lawn at the Veterans Home. Families wait, anticipating the routine in heaven — a wad of sparks, red-blue-white-yellow-blue-white-red, bop-bop-bop, and the shirr-rr of whistles. One little green beret, dead drunk, asks for part of my blanket. How can I refuse him as …
It was a time when vegetation grew at an astounding rate. We trudged home through waist-high weeds, blinded by dandelion fuzz. Ivy slithered up the walls as we watched. Leaves slipped under screens and pressed against the glass like human hands. We slept. We woke …
Meadow Simms was beat up at school again today. Little Meadow could read minds. The other children called her a witch. She was the shortest girl in the third grade. This morning she looked at Bobby Blue, whose hair was dirty, whose clothes were dirty, …
My son is coming off drugs and has the shakes. Today in the restaurant, he has trouble with utensils. He is having the House Special Noodles in Soup. Shaky chopsticks catch nothing. He tries the plastic Chinese spoon and splashes the soup. People are watching. …
Three weeks before his fatal heart attack, Gavin’s body began to send him intimations of its faulty inner workings, never enough to cause him any pain or even to make him alarmed – only extremely aware that there were things he couldn’t see in there, …
This book I’m writing. The cover I have down. The cover will be something to behold. That much is certain. The cover was my neighbor’s idea. My neighbor is helping me with this book. I lie on his floor, talking talking talking about the book, …
One morning at the St. Louis Zoo, the Camel and the Giraffe got to talking. "What the hell are we doing in St. Louis?" the Giraffe asked. "I’m on the outskirts of Riyadh back in ’89," the Camel said, "113 in the goddamn shade. People …
