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Showing posts from February, 2018

Experiment # 7 Meet Cute

ONE tennis court was thankfully open.  We grabbed our rackets and took opposites ends of the court.  This had always been our routine; any emotional drama was soothed by a chocolate indulgence immediately followed by a game of tennis.  Fallon and I were well matched.  Her amazing backhand rivaled my sharp-angled lefty serve perfectly.  Both of us had respectable forehands and good court coverage.  But where my long legs and speed helped me cover the court just a bit better, Fallon’s offense made that speed essential.          On court, we were highly competitive, but our relationship off court never was.  Even during our teen years when Fallon’s popularity could have hurt us, we were never rivals. She was a boy magnet, so on those rare occasions when I’d bring a date home and his affections would shift her way, no one was surprised.        But Fallon would never steal a boy from me.  She loved me too much for that and felt that any boy who could be that callous was not worthy of

Would this Query make you want to read the book? Ah!!!

You’d have to be blind or stupid not to realize that Unit 316 was no ordinary dog.  Unfortunately, the men at the J.I.M. were neither, and he was exactly what they’d been searching for.  In their quest to refute the commonly held contention that all species employ just ten percent of their brains, they scour the globe for any anomaly, any defect that might confirm their theory, gathering the abandoned, the unwanted, the unloved animals of the world and using them as test subjects; failing, time and time again.  Until they found the dog.  There was no questioning 316’s intelligence. One only need stare into those all too aware eyes to see the cognition, but he was... uncooperative.  316 was no fool.  He understood too well the hearts of men, knew the danger of exposing himself fully to them, and so he worked arduously to conceal the depths of his true self.  He knew his only chance for survival was to escape, for as long he was in their hands his days were quantifiable. But there was

Experiment #6 Slam Poetry

                                                                       SEEDS I was five years old when a classmate told me that if your butt wiggles when you walk It means you’re pregnant She said mine did, but I wasn’t. So from that day forward I became a friend of the shadows. I hid my parts. I lost my voice. . In silence, no one sees you. No one notices the flaws. I escaped to the silent residential street behind the main drag where no one would see me and assume the worst. A child bearing a child was not possible. But that’s how a child’s mind thinks. I braved the terror of walking with trepidation passed front lawns where big dogs with their incisors bared and hackles raised would charge at me behind their gated prisons. But I was the one in chains. Chains I bore in silence. At eight, Melva Anderson sat by the pool and called to me as I walked by. She noticed the wiggle. I sat down, trying to become one with the concrete in an eff