A PORTRAIT OF JOHN WAYNE’S COLLARBONE, SELMA BRAUN, 1992 by Will VanDenBerg
It's 5:34 am and John Wayne is singing to his horse. The shoot is behind schedule; they've gone all night. Wayne's singing voice will be dubbed over.
ANCHORAGE by Marc Tweed
That’s the Way of the Boss. That’s the Way of the Boss! Well, fuck.
OUR STORY by Rhea Ramakrishnan
You can tell yourself anything you want about yourself, even if it’s not true yet, and eventually it will be. Maybe.
RECENTISH by Spencer Thomas Campbell
But the product of this was both gushy and vain. Embarrassing. It was easy to read his real interest, which was carnal, puckered.
THE FAST-FOOD REBELLION and THE LARPER by Will Musgrove
On break, he spoke to us through the order box. The sun warming our necks, we tossed French fries to seagulls and smelled the electric static on his breath.
THE FORTY-FIVE DOLLAR SCYTHE by Don Television
They looked for the seller. They were sometimes lurking near the booth, watching as you handled the crockery. Watching as you flipped through the records.
OLD MAN SHADOW by Christopher Notarnicola
The girl came out, banana in hand, and the guy from the back followed, loosening his fruit-stained apron, gaping at the climb.
WHAT WE DID by K. A. Polzin
Then there was nothing left to sell. The blood bank told us we needed to give our veins a rest. Should we try pickpocketing, we wondered.
REGENERATION by Hayli Cox
Momma’s bones are broken in so many places that the images look like fins in their oceanic blue-black glow. She’s lost so much lately.
THE PINHEADED DINOSAURS WITH THEIR TINY SKULLS by Kellie Rankey
We think about shaving and razors and haircuts and the whole fashion of manipulating the body into approved shapes. We wish our teeth were sharper, stronger.