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Browse Topics
Employment
Readers Write
Learning The Hard Way
Hitching a ride, trusting a partner, marrying the same person three times
October 2022
Fiction
Blue Ladder
My uncle finally kicked me out, and I was living in the twenty-four-hour Kroger on Fairhaven Avenue in Tustin, California, pilfering food and sleeping at the coffee bar. One day Mr. Muniz pushed a cart through the frozen-foods section where I was fanning myself, and he stopped. I’d gotten ugly, my face wasn’t right, and I could tell he was thinking, What the hell?
September 2022
Poetry
Wingtips
On my way home from school / with a gang of friends / I would see him outside / one of the bars or diners / near the Journal Square station: / my uncle, rasping the price / of a shine to the passing crowd
June 2022Quotations
Sunbeams
June 2022To earn one’s bread by the sweat of one’s brow has always been the lot of mankind. At least, ever since Eden’s slothful couple was served with an eviction notice. The scriptural precept was never doubted, not out loud. No matter how demeaning the task, no matter how it dulls the senses and breaks the spirit, one must work. Or else.
The Sun Interview
Falling Behind
Ruth Milkman On The Growing Job Insecurity In America
In terms of security and a sense that you can count on a certain career path in life if you do your part — that’s over for most people. You’re on your own.
June 2022
Fiction
Late Delivery
My mother didn’t raise a thief, but by the time you round forty, you’re pretty much raising yourself. I scooped the package from its hiding place, then waved my free hand at the doorbell camera.
June 2022
Poetry
Last Day On The Factory Floor
We were warned not to complain — / plenty more temps they could call. / Warned, too, to avoid the break room / with its jailhouse camera / swiveling right outside the boss’s office, / his speakers playing only country.
June 2022The Dog-Eared Page
The Smell Of Fatigue
Life has always been as hard as the soles of my father’s feet. Like the callused hand my face melts into. He holds it like the cantaloupe before a fruit salad. Like life before America. Before it’s sliced, devoured, consumed.
June 2022Fiction
Good Housekeeping
How could she tell her son that although she bathes, puts on clothes, laughs at Colbert, and has conversations with people, people don’t know. They don’t have a clue they’re talking to a bunch of scattered molecules trying to imitate a human being.
May 2022
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
The Devil Takes Back
No one would admit that they’d stolen my phone, so Manager threatened to call a juju priest to settle the issue spiritually.
January 2022
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