She seduces him
with gab about speculative physics
and swirly mathematics.

She seduces him
with gab about speculative physics
and swirly mathematics.
After the no-hitter,
his life becomes a vague footnote to
those 27 outs.
He stopped torching
churches when he read his first haiku
collection by Basho.
“One step more
and you die,” she purrs, a glock
in her hand.
The deserted town
sits at the foot of a colossal dam
erected in 1964.
His love life
flounders as he spends all his time
buying foreclosed homes.
There’s talk about
starting a cable channel devoted exclusively to
covering American bloodbaths.
The argument escalates
and spills out into the snowy parking lot
of Breakfast Land.
She tells the
Pope that he’s really nothing but a
big brain chimp.
He tells me
that we are going to ban all religions
on this one.