My mother photographs dead people for her scrapbook. Scrapbooks I should say. There are many. Each one’s labeled with a volume number and the dates it covers. Each picture has a label that’s been printed and cut into a tiny fortune-cookie-type strip that says “Thanksgiving 2004,” or “Jim’s Graduation,” or “Julie’s first car.” They […]
King of the road.
Wow. I am impressed. The rippling muscles, the sweat, the spandex. You can wear that kind of thing. You make that helmet look good. You’re a picture of health. But if you don’t move that fucking bicycle off the road, I will run you over. This is a highway. It is not a bike trail. It is not the YMCA. It’s a […]