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She made her own clothes and wore plastic forks in her hair. She reminded me of my grandmother’s cat. Not the imaginary one, the one that got sucked up in that tornado in ’62. Her apartment always smelled like overripe oranges, and she’d recite that Carrousel Tune poem by Tennessee Williams whenever we played Canasta.…

Of all the treasures that have been discovered, this is what was rescued. This artifact. A memory that can’t be auctioned off. A relic scared by nostalgic happiness.

That morning, amongst the smell of gunpowder and burning Diesel, we realized that the only people who cry louder than these wounded children for blood, vengeance, and desolation are the old men who order the killing of their fathers.

He looked up into the stars and smiled. “Our only job is to show them that the walls that surround them are an illusion.

And every night, before he fell asleep, the king would sharpen his sword and count the coins that slipped through his fingers.

Man has reached a point on this planet where he truly needs all the friendship he can find. And in his loneliness, he needs all the birds, all the dogs and all the elephants.

He stared at me with a look that struggled to seem  Indifferent, yet wanted me to notice. “Aren’t you a clever boy.” He said.  The words crawled up from deep inside of him and  dripped from his lips like vinegar.  I could see a smile in his eyes through  his emanating disdain for me. His…