I want to come to finally knowthe secret of a burning snowhow this blend of heat and colddefies every truth ever told How to mix each metaphorso that it reflects something moregoes far beyond mere similein its quest to finally...

Lola's Grandmother didn'tlike the Irish.Lola said,"For fuck's sake, don't tellher you're Irish.She hates the Irish.""Why?" I asked."I don't know.  She doesthough, so don't evenmention the Irish."Lola was my girlfriendmany years ago inCalifornia.She had long black hairand the eyes of a...

  Cathy always sat ina small booth at theend of the bar.She had that empty cuploneliness, the kind thatnever goes away.We got drunk together anddanced like puppets inprison, injured by the night.Tarantulas and scorpionscrawled the desert of her heart.And I...