Photos & Words
The wine store. I’m waiting at the checkout counter. Three aisles away, a big fellow, sixty-something, dressed in black t-shirt and ill-fitting sweatpants, stands shouting through a star-spangled mask into his phone. His wife...
They say that memory is a kind of treasure house, but I’ve always thought of it more as a graveyard without monuments. It’s easy to lose track of what’s buried there. Recently I was...
Used to be that I spent a lot of time in the cafeteria of a certain Catholic hospital. It doesn’t matter which one. The circumstances of my life were more demanding in those days....
Late afternoon, Day of the Dead. An election looms. We’re out of dog food so I drive down the mountain to resupply. The radio waves are jammed with polls and pols. It’s getting darker...
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