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I’m a liar, / he offered on our first date, / as we trudged hand in hand / through sliding sand on Alameda Beach.
By Alison LutermanJune 2007A piano bench, creaky beds, a carving of a swan’s neck and head
By Our ReadersJune 2007A fifty-dollar bill every Christmas, the enveloping calm of crystalline snow and limitless sky, a blip on a monitor
By Our ReadersMay 2007There were strange hands on me. Some were small and cold; others seemed large and rough and smelled of sawdust and cinnamon. It was my third time at the new church, but I’d seen nothing like this before. The hands belonged to male church elders, who were encircling me in front of the entire congregation.
By Christopher LockeApril 2007At fourteen, shoplifting is fun. Like a sport, it takes a lot of skill. I have to be quick and gutsy and able to fool people. I put on my good-girl face and wear my cargo pants because they have deep pockets.
By Bella Mahaya CarterApril 2007Early-onset Alzheimer’s, a nonmonogamous relationship, an upright piano
By Our ReadersJanuary 2007The rain hits the tin roof, a sound Norma loves. Too loud, I insist, unable to sleep. What do you call the rain when two people can’t agree what the rain sounds like?
By Sy SafranskyOctober 2006August 2006Men are stupid and women are crazy. And the reason women are so crazy is because men are so stupid.
George Carlin
As a child I thought of my mother and father in terms of centuries. This man and this woman had lived forever, it seemed, born wholly formed and unchanging, waiting patiently for my sisters and me to come along. Had someone told me my parents were, in truth, scarcely more than children themselves, I would have considered it a lie to rival the tooth fairy.
By Eric BosseAugust 2006Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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