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Fiction
Tanganyika
The night of the day that Dr. Martin Luther King was shot, my parents had gone to the art museum in Cleveland to see a stunning painting by Titian of Mars and Venus, a fat naked Venus and a Mars clad in Renaissance armor. But instead of eating a fancy dinner or making love in a motel room, they were frantically trying to book a flight back to Newark, New Jersey, which was burning to the ground.
April 1991Sunrise, Montana
My God, he was a beautiful man. The way he sat on a horse. Or the way he rolled a cigarette. Charlie Freeman. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
March 1991Plum Island
One of Quick’s students is fishing at the foot of the beach beneath the shack he rents on Plum Island. The dog wants walking. There is no escape. The girl’s name is Harley and she is barely passing Spanish.
March 1991Finding Out About Your Heart
After twenty-five years in the courtroom, you only have to look at the foreman to know a jury’s mind. The doc’s expression tells you what he has found out about your heart.
March 1991The Wrong Peas
In every diner, there are those who insist the waiter explain the precise inner workings of a tuna-fish sandwich before they place their orders. I’m not one of them.
March 1991Heart Too Big
“The Fat Fucker showed up,” he said, mopping his plate with a biscuit. Robert nodded, acknowledging that he knew who Edsel was talking about, but wasn’t ready to speak himself until he’d concluded a particularly sensual moment with Ellen’s cooking.
February 1991Tales Of Lord Shantih
A seeker approached Lord Shantih with a question. “My Lord,” he said, “what special task do wise men perform in honor of the gods?” Lord Shantih struck him with his staff. “A wise man,” he shouted, “performs all his tasks in honor of the gods!”
February 1991The Color Of Light
Through rain and sun and fog, through snows that melted before he was done with them, in winds that screamed at him, the painter stamped and shouted and reached out with his brush to catch the light before it was gone.
February 1991Three Women
She was wearing ragged cutoffs and a faded short-sleeved blouse, and her legs and arms were deeply tanned. You could have broken them like pieces of kindling.
January 1991Song
Then my father saw me. Liam got up — to keep him from me, I think. What chance did he think he had against such hate? My father threw him down again.
January 1991
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