“a supermoon in Taurus.” by Julia on the 2


Sunday November 20, 2016
3:02pm
5 minutes
From chaninicholas.com

The other night after hating you for loving me I left the house in my pajama bottoms to seek out the supermoon
You said I probably wouldn’t be able to see anything in this fog but if she was waiting for me to catch her she would probably be that-away and you pointed to the east
I half expected she would be there and willing and believed I would be found if I found her but I couldn’t track her down and that was one more thing to be wrong about that day
I came back up the stairs slowly and stood outside our apartment door for a minute longer than usual while I decided how to feel in front of you
I could hear you inside telling yourself that you deserved to be happy too sometimes

“I’m just so sad” by Sasha at her desk


Saturday November 19, 2016
12:07pm
5 minutes
Overheard on Oak St.

“I’m just so sad,” Phoebe has eyes like macaroni and cheese, deep pools of swamp. “I know you are, babe,” I say, and I wish that there was more comfort in those five words. They are just five words and words aren’t enough today. “I’m scared to live here,” she pulls the hood of her sweatshirt around her neck, cocooning. “I want to disappear.”

Inside the quietness of my ribcage, I talk to her about going to the desert and getting married, a klezmer band of lesbians singing to our love in ancient howls under a crescent moon. Inside the quietness, I whisper sounds that aren’t words that might hold her in a way English never can.

“I’m just so sad” by Julia on the 99


Saturday November 19, 2016
11:14pm
5 minutes
overheard on Oak St.

The layer of sad is thick and close by
I feel like I have to dodge it on my way out of my own hallway
And then again on the stairwell
and once more as I walk into the street
It is not mine alone
It is all of us
It is all of ours
Some of us refusing to name it
Others pretending it doesn’t exist
By now the thick and low hanging sad is making it hard to see straight
It is as grey as November rain
and as always
I have heard it called Armageddon
And those of us who carry pocket swords dripping blood and ink say it’s our time to be precise
It’s our time to go to battle

“More money, like I said.” By Sasha in her bed


Friday November 18, 2016
11:41pm
5 minutes
A Boy Of Good Breeding
Miriam Toews


Janis takes her money out of the bank. All of it. All thirty thousand, six hundred and sixteen dollars. The teller (hair long and stringy, a row of pimples across her chin) calls the manager (overweight and balding with very kind eyes). Janis smiles politely. She waits. The manager asks her to take a seat and then calls her into his private office. It doesn’t have a door that closes. It’s one of those places. It’s one of those banks.