Emerging from a world which had consumed me, you—nameless but familiar—showed up with your own offspring. They tugged at your arms as you set them up for entertainment in front of their monitors. You were frustrated by their capricious desires. And yet you still treated them as if they were tiny adults—asking them what they…
Providing the Mortar
A few months ago I had the opportunity to talk to Rick Bragg about his latest book, Jerry Lee Lewis: His Own Story. You can that read that interview in the Winter 2014 edition of Creative Nonfiction or you can read a PDF of it here.
Your son
When your son reached across my hot plate and speared his fork into my hash browns, I fought the primal urge to stab my fork into his grubby little paw.
Summer Girl
I never knew her name But I loved her Because when she ascended from the water Her long brown hair clung To the back of her neck And her one-piece swimsuit. She lived behind freckles And her brown eyes Never met mine. The giant concrete pond teemed With kids – mostly white, some black –…