“I’m not a man to take what isn’t mine.” The teenage crew member dropped his valuables and ran out to the deck. Leaning forward on the railing, trying to catch a glimpse of land.
There is no warm comprehension only cool calculations: The language of positions, diagrams, degrees, millimeters, rations, nuts and bolts. Still, never their minds attempt to bury the why, who, what, where, how?
A club with a pink sign in Miami vice style writing that said “Lazerbeam” only the “m” was going in and out so every few seconds it was club “Lazerbea”, which I thought sounded cooler.
You want a long line of individuals trailing out the door at your funeral. You can’t die in overalls, you’re from the suburbs.
It’s the first name of a horse with literary fame. The dye of clothing chosen by the dead actress bisected. A type of humor laced with death, loss, illness and spite.