Want to see how a plague spreads? Go to Google Maps and type the word “church.”
What starts things are the accidents behind the eyes touched off by, say, the missing cheekbone of a woman who might have been beautiful it is thinking about your transplanted life-line going places in someone else’s palm, or the suicidal games your mind plays with the edge of old wounds, or something you couldn’t share with your lover there are no endings people die between...
A Good Life
It was on evenings like this, in spite of the good talk and drink, no more love-worries than usual, and a fine commotion of crickets in the late summer heat, it was on evenings like this he knew his true life lay elsewhere, it must, so much acceptable pleasure here yet so much yearning. He was home, some muted pinprick of unease prodding him, dully, from afar. He told a story about a black bear...