Poem: Girl of the Tilt-a-Whirl

She’s the girl of the tilt-a-whirl
Who smells like cotton candy
With gleaming neon in her eyes
She’s the laughter of roller coasters

Poem: At the Pond Beyond the Pines

There’s a clearing out in the woods
Past a meandering creek now dried up
From summer creek that runs down
To the clearing in the pines
A little pond muddy and dark
Where we would sit under blue skies

Poem: One of an Infinite Number of Summers

The smell of fresh cut grass
Hot dogs grilling and chlorine
On wet bikini clad bodies
All the trappings of summer
Days spent wasted on love

Short Story: Interlude to a Departure

“The fire escape is rusty,” Henry said.

“It always had been since we started sitting out here at age thirteen,” Jess responded.

“Five years on, other things have changed. The rising sun is threatening to take you. You’ll go, I’ll never see you again.”

“I won’t forget you.”

“Is what they always say.”

Poem: City Lights

All the stars we see
Aren’t stars at all
They’re just those distant city lights
Letting us know we’re not the only ones
Young and crazy and running the night

Poem: Running the Night

On the night air rises
The songs of our youth
Taking your hand
We take off down the road
Thinking maybe tonight
We will find some magic
And we can be that young again