twas

twas

At first, I thought for sure that he was merely walking in my direction; it —the possibility that he would ever walk toward me— never crossed my mind that he might actually be walking toward me. Absolutely, I saw him; everyone sees him. If he’s in a room, he is to whom everyone pays attention. He saw me seeing him, and like any sane person, I immediately looked away and soon began to feel that dreaded internal temperature rise out of embarrassment. I prayed for the first time in over a decade that I would not a) turn red and b) release sweat through the pores in my face. Read more

Lucky Cat Candy

Lucky Cat Candy

With a theme color of minty, apple green, the entire endeavor of selling self-serve bulk candy exudes a grotesque ambiance as clear, back-lit plastic boxes reveal numerous varieties of sugar that have been shaped and colored into seductive, bite-sized pieces of splendor. Like moths to a flame, children and sweet-inclined adults buzz over to the wall lined with promises of sugary satisfaction. Each type of available candy is categorized and defined as follows. Read more

Fire Flight

Fire Flight

The moon as metaphor for the goal —the desired thing— that sits just out of reach, just beyond the grasp of outstretched fingertips, always watching, looming, always seen high in the sky above the mind that seeks, wishes, urgently, to wrap a hand, an arm, the whole body around the fat width of the face that haunts with its shadows of doubt, its illumination of promise. The metaphor that insinuates beauty, hope, longing, the possible. The metaphor that insists on triumph of the will over defiance of the spirit. The reality, the attuned understanding with regards to foundations built upon process over whim. Read more

Three-Top

Three-Top

Glass glasses clink; meat sizzles and steams, hot; ceramic plates slide across stainless steel expediting shelves with a scratching woosh; pans bang and crash into thick black plastic tubs; a knife chops quickly; the low rumble of conversation intermittently overshadows the shouts and commands streaming out of the kitchen when servers and busboys swing the door open wide to either retrieve an order or return dirty dishware. Seated at a table at the end of the bar —nearest the kitchen— the three can experience it all. Butter, garlic, brewed coffee, warm bread, black pepper, tray after tray, full of food and beverage, pass by one after the other in an endless stream. They have yet to see their server. A young Latino boy arrives at their table; without a word, he flips then fills each water glass and promptly walks away. Distracted by the general chaos surrounding the location of their table, none seem too concerned with the menu. Read more