Half the teachers at the Lycee Mixte in Beja were called Jean-something When his girlfriend broke with him, Jean-Pierre fell into a funk so deep, they clamped him in a stretcher and shipped him to a rest home in Toulouse.… Read more ›
The blue blue lake and snow-capped peaks literally take your breath away. Red-faced and panting, chewing on your coca leaves like a ruminating cow, you trudge along the sinuous path that climbs from the harbor to the hacienda on the… Read more ›
From our bed in Hvar, Scented with silk bags Of crushed lavender, You can discern A pot of red geraniums Balanced on a white marble slab Below a thin blue band Of Adriatic Sea, A composition Worthy of Matisse. Your… Read more ›
Beautiful kid. In yet another drunken rage, Your father’s locked you out again. You show up at my door At an hour when Only feral dogs Roam the cramped streets Scavenging for food. Beautiful kid, Your swollen face, A ghostly… Read more ›
This ain’t no dress rehearsal, Alan says with a sly grin, this here’s the real thing. He’s knee deep in the river, clad only in a derby hat, black bowtie, thong and gloves, serving wine and canapés from a shiny… Read more ›
Alberto has visions. You can see them mirrored in his eagle eyes, set in a face so finely etched he might have carved it out himself with the sharp edge of his chisel: white bushy brows, unruly beard, high forehead… Read more ›