Author Archives: alannasolomon

Reduced to Black and White

by Carol V. Davis

After a week in Siberia
my world is shrinking.
I gaze out the window
weighing choices: Continue reading

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Barbershop

by Paul Hostovsky

“Nobody calls it a barbershop anymore
except you, Dad,” says my son
when I tell him that’s where we’re going. Continue reading

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Risk Taker

by Elizabeth Primamore

Chalks pulled the ‘72 Corolla into the faculty parking lot. Keys in his pocket, he hurried across the lot, waved to the patrol guard, walked up a few stairs, and went through the double brown doors of Harding in Kearny. He shook in his coat a little. The day was overcast and sleet was starting to fall – unseasonal weather for early November. It felt good to be inside. Continue reading

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The Problem with History in Hawai`i

by Christian Hanz Lozada

History is present in every rock
Kamehameha left on the side of the road
even though it’s also just a rock.
The Queen’s Guards are decked out in red
like a queen’s guard is decked out in red
and the luau dancers wear grass skirts. Continue reading

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¡Mexico!

by Daniele De Serto
Translated from Italian by Wendell Ricketts

The whole inside of the car smells like French fries.

Sophie is extracting them one by one from the bag and then, after examining each one carefully, threading them into her mouth. I’m driving one-handed. My left arm is out of commission, and I’ve got it propped against the edge of the window, my elbow sticking out. Every once in a while I use my driving hand to reach for a French fry, which means I have to let go of the steering wheel for a few seconds. I’m doing it because it’s part of a show I’m putting on for Sophie, so she can see exactly what kind of cool and simpatico dude her dad really is. Which is also why my left arm has to stay put. Little details like that are important, especially because we’ve only got another dozen or so miles together before it’s bye-bye. Continue reading

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