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Poem: Paths That Don’t Lead Home

Home wasn’t calling to me
Whispers of words pulled me
Down old roads where we used to ride
With you by my side under the moonlight
Hands held over the console and signing
Songs by Tom Petty and Springsteen
On repeat as we cruised down to the bay

Short Story: Standing on an Empty Street Without Direction

Lena breathed in the chilly night air.

It was the hour of the morning when the previous night’s mistakes lingered but hadn’t taken root into full-blown regrets.
She looked up the street.

Then down the street

Then back to me sitting on the stoop, head in hands, fighting off the oncoming hangover.

Poem: LandaysImpasse

There is a Cold War between our lips
With neither of us willing to speak truth to power

Days go by one chasing another
With a silence filling the gaps where our words should be

Both preferring to preserve the truce
That keeps the peace and keeps us as willing prisoners