Wednesday, June 30, 2010
With apologies to Tim Etchells, whose Dictionary is otherwise most comprehensive, and should be on every dreamer's nightstand:
"Waking, Sarah consults the Dream Dictionary, but no entry explains the doctor’s eyepatch. That contraption he’d invited her to pedal though, somebody oughta market one of those. The closer you got the harder it got, and her feet kept slipping off the pedals. It was maddening."
Read the rest of my flash 'Doctor Eyepatch' at Postcard Stories.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Norm never says what he sees out the window. We like to think he respects confidences.
He was supposed to be a garden gnome. Give pause to the squirrels, keep an eye on the impatiums. We found him at Wegman's. He looked hopeful and observant.
We put him in the cart with the lunchmeat and yogurt but he slid around and I took him out and carried him. His hat was poky. He didn't seem frightened. I turned him around so he could see things. When the cashier saw us coming she laughed.
She was a tall thin talkative girl. Mornings she milked cows for two hours before she came into work at Wegman's. The gnome liked her too.
What's your name? she said.
He looked like he hadn't thought about it.
Well, you'll figure it out, she said. You want to ride in a bag?