over it


head first


yet every time

I claimed

a piece

of myself

I broke

that fall

and fanned

the flames

a little higher

so much water




you may have

to some

been good

but you were not good

to me



Split second fantasy.  He’s idling his truck at the stop sign, waiting for her to reach the curb because he thinks she’s cute. She steps into the street, waves.  He nods back.  Accelerates forward. Gone as fast as second thoughts drive her fantasy away.

Last week, watching her friend’s hair fussery, she avoids her own reflection in the restroom mirror.  Says, someday, someday perhaps, I’ll be with someone who will tell me everyday that I am beautiful. 

You won’t be, you know, her friend replies. Not until you see it for yourself.  Never once taking her eyes off herself.


100 words

Good Things

Bad things come in threes.  Sure enough, she can divide her thus far life into thirds. Name each portion. Like hurricanes.

Minutes into the trip, sunshine splits the rainy sky in half with a rainbow, and then, as if that were not enough, a V of geese flies overhead, and she feels twice blessed.

First rest stop. Presiding over coffee and cookies, there he is. Relic of a war long since past, and he asks her hopefully, as she drops a dollar into the tip jar, if she’d like to hear a pirate joke, and then another, and another.


Getting back into the swing of writing, I gave myself a 100 word limit on this one.