Behind The Eight Ball

You never met your paternal Grandfather, her husband and your Dad’s Father. All your Dad told about him was that he died while potting the eight-ball in a game of pool; it occurs to you that there’s an explanation (other than your misspent youth) for your prowess with a pool cue and your chronic sense…

Not Waving, Drowning

Now that delicious feeling has morphed into a contracted foreboding that you just can’t seem to shake without at least two glasses of wine.

Primal Scream

“I am more awake than I have ever been… yet reeling from the dream.”