thirty-five degrees

Out of bed and down the stairs to open the old wooden door and take a breath of morning. It is cold. Twenty-nine degrees. Tiny white flakes drift and spiral in the air. It is Spring in Alpena, Michigan. Our neighborhood is silent, except for our American flag. A heavy-duty, hand-stitched beauty that’s got a … More thirty-five degrees

our last day

(this story first appeared in Vol 28.1 of December Magazine) First the snow. Three heavy hours. We run in it. Play. Build snowmen. Snowball fight. Fall onto our backs, move our legs and arms back and forth until we turn into angels.   Then the heat. Within an hour the snow is gone. We are down … More our last day

in the moonlight

I’ve made it home, and I’m coming to. In my bed. Fully clothed. On top of the covers. Someone’s coming up the stairs. Slowly. Deliberately trying to be quiet. But the old staircase is creaking and popping, giving them away, mapping their ascent to my room. I try sitting up, but I’m hung-over and still … More in the moonlight

a work in progress

My boy. Fourteen today. 1 4. One. Four. Goddamn. He’s a good spirit. Has good intentions. Is not meant to be bound by the rules. I know this. And yet, I expect him to meet expectations that I know are bullshit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What’s a forty-six year-old, chubby hubby and daddy to do when … More a work in progress

the pit

In the kitchen. Taxes on my mind. Knowing I need to get them done because if done right, we’ll get money back. We need this money to live this life we’re living. I understand that the sum of your belongings means nothing. But once you accumulate and have, you expect. It’s ridiculousness at its best. … More the pit

Johnnie

January 14th, 2020 9:56 pm Thinking about stupid shit. Like buying a new computer. The price of XRP. Why I feel guilty all the time—about wanting to drink wine, eat chocolate and meat—and how even though I’ve lost over 50 pounds in a year, I still am not happy with my body. In the meantime, … More Johnnie