the higher-order thinking behind her smile




they agree to fast forward through the death scene




the salty air surrounds the living saint




the surface tension of the tear on old Joe's cheek




the sacramental washing of her breakfast bowl




abject individualism killed the sunflower




She said She was the cat's mother!




you changed a poem I never wrote




texting in a room filled with people who are not there




I was the F student who stayed up all night with the stars




she wants to know why I won't follow the directions on the box




his every word a choking hazard




only if the dolphins knew how good they looked on television




learning he was a bedwetting pyromaniac changed nothing




she got no argument when she said: This is purgatory!