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Reunions

A repressed memory, a custody battle, a summer on the prairies

He Thought He’d Died And Gone To Heaven

I turned my head slowly to sneak a look at Mary, Annie, and Millie. They were staring intently at their dominoes, their lips pursed tightly together. It was clear to me that they had not told Ray he was dead.

Eating Head

“Gringo watching,” I call it. I’ve been living in Mexico on and off for twenty years, and slowly I’m developing this prejudice, this terrible prejudice, against Americans. “They’re so pale and wan — in such a hurry,” I think, trying to forget I’m one of them.

Separate From Love

Women hold gloved hands over your face, protect you from what really happens in the world, then laugh at your awkwardness.

All The Panamas In The World And Herb’s

Carol had on a pink blouse. Her bra straps made these small ridges in the cloth. Every time she bent to reach for another glass, a small crescent of purple poked from beneath the pink. It looked like the edge of a real whopper.

The White Guitar

In fourth grade, after the bra-and-girdle notebook affair, we all fell in love with Julia Harris. By “we” I mean the foreign boys in Madame Bouvet’s class, and also Pascal Fourtané, the only French boy we foreigners hung out with.

Gary Blake

I met Gary Blake at the meditation hall. It was a place of silence, but Gary Blake was not a silent man.

Mayflies

What magnificent creatures they are, these friends who populate the complex ecology of the life I share with Julia. Refreshed by their presence, confirmed by their affection, we rejoice in the sight and the sound of them.

Drinks

“I’m going to do you to death,” he said. “How about that. Not because you’re pretty, either, because you’re not, but because you can’t stop me. How about that.”

What I Have To Say: A Poem For Friends