by Carol Casey The August sun has almost spun the straw to gold in the large stack behind the barn. We take turns sliding down its side, whooping in the earthy smell, the scratchy stalks tickling. Not sure why I go down backward, push off so hard. I land with a thump on almost…
by Holly Day He was parked in the lot at Thrifty’s Drug buck naked save for A big white cowboy hat and a pair of dark sunglasses he was Holding onto his erect penis and grinning proudly and happily like his penis Was a prize he had won as a…
