My father used to take me fishing almost every summer weekend. My brother was never as into it so he didn't always go. We were heading south toward Harrisburg with the green corn vibrating in the breeze all around us. My father talked to himself as if I wasn't there, something he always did while … Continue reading Roadkill
Fishing
Strange Days
As a bored, pimple-faced high schooler, I read a science-fiction story about a character who gets trapped on the wrong side of the mirror. Duped by his reflection, he lives in a world not quite normal—a dimmer alternate universe populated by imposters he does not love. I could not tell you the name of the … Continue reading Strange Days
Down by the River
When I got home from work, the boy told me he wanted to go fishing. I paused before answering out of weariness. What I really needed was a cold beer and a hot shower. “Let your dad rest and get settled,” my wife said in support. “I’ll never say no to that,” I said. “We … Continue reading Down by the River
Graffiti Bridge
I decided to put the words and the worries aside and just take some pictures. The suburbanites hurtling over us in their cars had no idea about the art and the wonder below. I could leave the city, put myself deeper in debt and find a nice spot by some lake. I might catch bigger … Continue reading Graffiti Bridge
Underneath the Bridge
Gripping our rods and a bucket, I held back some bushes for my six-year-old son so he could go on ahead of me. To my left, I noticed the sleeping bag underneath the bridge. At the opening, where the head should have been, I saw a pair of red Converse All-Stars. A dirt bike lay … Continue reading Underneath the Bridge
Mrs. Brody’s Nightstand
I used to play with another boy named Jason Brody who lived not far from me in the trailer park. His mother was usually away at work when I came over. I think she was a nurse. Mrs. Brody had a boyfriend named Kenny who seemed strange to me because he was always smiling. The … Continue reading Mrs. Brody’s Nightstand
