where my shadow should be
I buy my daughter books I neglect to read to her.
I buy my son a baseball mitt with no intention of playing catch.
I'm never around, never where I need to be, but always there's a replacement: seducing enticing commercials promising a better life
paid for by my absence.
Continued...
the difference between a snow angel and snow demon is whether you lie on your front or back
the snow melts during the span of the night water dripping from the tin roof ticking away the seconds waking up to the same dead yellow yard lawn furniture scattered a crooked basketball goal held in place by a broken Power Wheels truck a couple of semi deflated balls matted with mud and grass placed like grave markings it’s as though the snow never fell at all the momentary beauty bestowed by the powdery inch a figment of the family’s collective imagination if not for the corpse of the snow man slouched in the shadow of the house trailer every hour the children check the carcass for further decay charcoal eyes crushed into the ground head split open, melding with the yard, hour by hour shrinking in upon itself skin crystalizing torso eviscerated innards plundered for snowballs to ambush daddy until this too is gone fading to memory the first snow fall of the decade
the bookseller
When I told my wife I sold my first book she reacted with far more joy than the event warranted.
"I didn't even know you finished your novel."
Actually, I'd yet to finish the first chapter. We hadn't quite reached that watermark in our marriage where I could comfortably reveal that my writing time went to downloading porn.
"I sold a book on eBay, Stephen King's On Writing".
"Oh," she deflated.
I sold it for a dollar. Five bucks altogether, adding shipping and handling minus the twenty-five cent insertion fee and the forty- four cent PayPal fee, not to mention the seventeen dollars I originally paid for the book five years ago.
She looked at all the books lining the shelves of our bedroom.
"Keep it up," she said. "At this rate, we'll be out of the poor house in no time."
Karl Koweski is a 33 year old writer living on top of a mountain in Alabama. He writes the column "Observations of a Dumb Polack" at www.zygoteinmycoffee.com. His latest chapbook, Diminishing Returns, is available at www.sunnyoutside.com.
"where my shadow should be" originally appeared in Diminishing Returns and "the bookseller" originally appeared in Nerve Cowboy. Karl Koweski is a member of The Guild of Outsider Writers.
Last update : 05-03-2008 22:46
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