Spitball Army

A sack of onions, a block of cheese, and no bowls in the kitchen. She slumps on the floor et elle pleure les larmes salées.

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Hello Helen I am sorry I am not there to help gather the eggs that the ugly chicken laid.

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Approximate playing time: 76 minutes.

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I’m about ready to hit the sack, Sweetheart. Can’t be done just yet though, can it? I haven’t even told you that I love you and I haven’t wished you a happy birthday yet.

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So there I was, sitting at the red light at the intersection of Valley Avenue and Green Springs Highway, windows down in the post-work late afternoon in an attempt to circulate the stale hot air to the outside.

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I’ve slid syringes into oranges. I inject saline into my cat daily. But when the nurse pulls the needle on me, I turn away in fear.

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It started raining last night just before mid-night and it is still drizzling. Very nice sleeping, I just couldn’t force myself to get up.

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A bird, wings spread, hides face-down in the tall grass, apparent victim of a bad landing. Wild onions sprout from its still body.

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Postcard is untitled on the front.

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Approximate playing time: 80 minutes.

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