"That's not how you fold a fitted sheet," my naked 85-year-old grandmother said, tossing it back at me like a wet bluegill. I let it hit my bare chest and slide to the wooden floorboards between us.The smell of...

...silent sentinels on the dashboard of one's Kiaa silent, plastic affirmation on every speed bumpmolded to sin, an acquiescence lacking a spineholding steady in dull redundancy with a vacantgaze nodding, engaged in narcissistic intimacy...Talking to the monkey in one's...

Musette DuBois, was stoned, rising from the bastion of her mahogany bed at twilight's moon—she worked the night shift on cannery row—it was the weekend, and she was free to wander the streets of Baton Rouge—the Rangoon bubbled, with...