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We almost collided.

It vibrated toward me.
I clomped toward it.

It stopped.
I stopped.

Short gray hair
carpeted its
plump body.

Tiny black pearls
bulged on each side
of its pointed face.

It tried to stare me
scared
with one bead;
stick-pin mustache
twitching.

It peeped permission
for me to pass.

Or maybe
it was a warning.

I retreated.

-Stephen R. Wright

The pseudo preppy couple.
They scare me.
For themselves, their generation.
Total disregard.
For morals, social convention.
Incorrect.
Political correction.

The former juicer
who needs a man bra
the model and sometime mother
trapped in her 300 trophey case
when he's not driving her around in it.

They isolate
alienate
reinforce their lonely superiority;
Daddy pays all the bills they can't.

A house without a full bath.
A bar sink with no water.
A broken hot tub.
A desecrated classic car.
They think,
it all looks pretty in pink
to everyone else.

-Frank Kalinowski

sipping peach juice

from styrofoam coffee cup

she accepted 3 more glasses quietly

and tugged on her silver hoops

new and shiny

much larger than i would ever wear

angry words billow

from the hallway

mom and dad fuming

she chokes

more juice

sips gratefully

hugs her ears

underwater as she escapes

gulp after gulp