Category: Issue #12

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The gun doesn’t remember you. The man you were was not important, nothing more than another in a series of shifting targets for the shouting hole of its small black mouth. Furthermore, you may have been a woman. Let’s say you were. It doesn’t make any difference to the gun. What matters is that the…

I stand at the foot of the Palace Mall and its opulent towers, capped by Muscovite-inspired domes, looming before wispy, distant clouds. It was built in three days this past summer. Absent, then present, like May flies, mushroom heads, etc. A cricket chirps so loudly in the dying boxwood adjacent to the parking lot that…