I've Accrued A Kind Of Patience, I

She Was Not Good On The Phone. She Needed The Face, The Pattern Of Eyes, Nose, Trembling Mouth... People Talking Were Meant To Look At A Face, The Disastrous Cupcake Of It, The Hide-and-seek Of The Heart Dashing Across. With A Phone, You Said Words, But You Never Watched Them Go In. You Saw Them Off At The Airport But Never Knew Whether There Was Anyone There To Greet Them When They Got Off The Plane.

This Was My Modest Dream Come True: Unambitious Flight. The Kind That Never Even Got High Enough For A View.

Pleasantness Was The Machismo Of The Midwest. There Was Something Athletic About It. You Flexed Your Face Into A Smile And Let It Hover There Like The Dare Of A Cat.

To Write A Short Story, You Have To Be Able To Stay Up All Night.

A Funny Line Can Never Exist On Its Own. It Needs To Be Surrounded By Mood And Circumstances.