Tag: relationships
member name: Patricia F.
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February 28, 2008 05:40 PM EST --
When I look up at that dirty little rectangular hole in the eaves of that awful rundown apartment building, I can still see you there. There in your kitchen. Nobody should have to stand there . . .
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June 24, 2008 03:43 PM EDT --
Your Mom makes you scrambled eggs
And toast with strawberry jam,
And feeds it to you in little bites,
While she tells you how high the tomato plants are,
And . . .
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June 24, 2008 02:08 PM EDT --
Pam's voice sounds far away and thin, like she can't quite get the breath to form the words.
"There's no easy way to say this. It's Kenny. He has cancer. . . .
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February 08, 2009 11:58 AM EST --
"Roger?"
Bea calls up the stairs, peering through her thick lenses at the light in the upstairs hall. "Where is that man? Our show's about to start." She tisks, . . .
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May 19, 2009 11:41 PM EDT --
Isn't it great to feel it?
That sense that somebody gets you.
It's nothing you can name.
Only a sense that this being has looked inside you
With an angel's glass,
. . .
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August 05, 2008 06:03 PM EDT --
I have taken a piece I wrote called, "A Wandering", and condensed it into a poem for a poetry Workshop that I have been taking at The Robert Frost homestead. I do not consider myself . . .
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June 01, 2008 07:51 PM EDT --
Every week day, around 3 o'clock or so, the big yellow school bus spit us all out at our stop on Depot Road. As the bus chugged away, we'd wave at our friends and stick our tongues out at our . . .
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July 22, 2008 09:19 AM EDT --
I entered the Lorian Hemingway Short Story Competition in April, 2008. The winners were just announced in Key West , FLA. I placed with Honorable Mention with my short story, Sea Glass . . .
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June 30, 2009 05:00 PM EDT --
Vivian scooped the bread crumbs from the kitchen table into her palm and tossed them into the sink. Vivian's grandmother Ruby looked at Vivian and tsked, "Don't be scooping up while I'm still havin' . . .
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June 21, 2009 02:33 AM EDT --
I keep having dreams about you,
So close that I can smell your hair.
And I am mad at you so many times,
As I wrangle with my bruised feelings.
Why didn't I ever feel like your prize,
Even . . .
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