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Prisoner of Love

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Sometimes in that timeless space

Between lines etched in parchment

You return to me.


George Washington's Damp Wig

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It was in the springtime. The smell of water mixing with the world was all around. The trees held heavy, dripping leaves and the fields were dark and full and hard to walk through without losing a boot.

There was to be a parade that morning. Well not really a parade, but the fact was The President, George Washington, was on a celebratory tour of the territory, after having won the election, and would be crossing the Merrimac River on the ferry that day, and to get to the ferry he would have to go right past our home: Arrowhead Farm.



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McCready tensed, crouching low beside a large hedge and peering ahead through the fog and the rain that was compressing Forrester Park like a wet blanket.The city was hiding, it had been raining steadily since noon and no one was moving.

In the pale glow of the luminaires lighting the walking path, he saw a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure sliding through the fog, gone as quickly as it had appeared.

McCready moved ahead, staying in the shadows and parallelling the path.He knew it was Matisse, he could feel it in every fiber of his being.


Crazy Lady Detective Agency

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When my dog went missing, I focused on Lamont James.  Lamont’s my sometime friend — quote unquote — who brought dog-frickin-biscuits every time he visited to drink my beer.  And I think he had a key to my crib cause my one-time girlfriend Monica said she lost the one I gave her last year and Lamont has been seen walking with her on Broadway.


The Irish Santa

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Mike Feeney threw a lighted match into the rusted half-barrel of firewood he had scrounged from nearby abandoned buildings and watched as the flames grew. He settled beneath the concrete bridge that had become home, and tightened a tattered blanket around his emaciated frame. He knew the fire would attract other hapless vagrants, but he didn’t mind. Numbers brought safety, company and conversation. They could share a bottle of whiskey or the stale bread he had pulled from a dumpster earlier that day.


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