Red Tin Noodles

The street is wide enough for dreams and sounds appropriate, suggesting poolside guilt in cellar bars and anglo plays, with subtle buzzing urged by those who know in yards of green felt heaven beneath smashing … Read more

Bob was Bobby ’til he learned of palindromes. For his living spaces, he sought motor homes. His history was built upon deceptions. He’d been to some Republican receptions. And on his wall a Spiro Agnew … Read more