I am watching you sleep. After all these years, it is still my favorite part of you—the way your face loosens into peace, the way sleep carries you somewhere strange and bright. Soon you will wake and tell me about it. A landscape that does not exist. A story that arrived fully formed and must …
pockets of little boys
The little boy pushed himself upright. He knew the leaves were wet because he could feel the damp on the back of his shorts. He glanced quickly to the painful places. When he saw the blood first on his knee then second on his elbow, he gathered his legs against his chest and began to …
Dixie's Road Trip 