Cords

It’s six and September so the sky is gilded at the edges in small leaves and slivers on the water when the boat moves off the dock. I have a book of poems in my palm and a man runs a polisher over the coffee-colored floor in gentle whirs along the window seats. Tonight the … More Cords

Hot Dogs

“How long have the hot dogs been in there?” asks a man with a faded black backpack and four-day scruff on his face. The ferry has just shoved off and the sun has hit the place in the sky that puts a flat gold patina on the water, the color of candlesticks in an attic. … More Hot Dogs

Expert

We’d never spoken, only nodded greetings to one another in the ripening daylight. We park in the same lot, lock our cars and make our way to the small terminal. He is large and walks slowly, his pack looks like a child’s across his wide, rounded shoulders. His eyes are dark pebbles behind his glasses. … More Expert