Midway

by Peter Krumbach

—for Ron Salisbury

Ron says in a lifetime we each swallow fourteen spiders. That’s about a spider every five years, I say. It’s 92 degrees. We stand on the sidewalk between Luna’s Psychic Reading and Happy Head (Foot Reflexology and Massage). Ron has been married four times, almost killed twice. The last few weeks he’s been contemplating building a canoe. To remind myself, he says, what birch-bark and cedar ribs can do for the spirit. Continue reading

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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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Starman

by Ken Nishizaki
(Translated by Toshiya Kamei)

I don’t remember who started calling him “Starman.”

Was it Kondo who worked at the bar? Was it Shorty, a self-proclaimed drummer who quit the band after a month?

One day at an izakaya, Starman told us he’d come to Earth from another planet in a distant galaxy. Since then, he’d been known as Starman. This is his story. 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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