EE Kay's Page

My first stab at a 6x6--I'm really grateful to those who make it all the way through, since I know this is longer than typical posts. So thank you and here goes a story about love, writing, and getting desperate:


Peroxide

1.

“It'll be great, Harry, just great--see, Lilly will run back to Bertram, but he'll already be in bed with Lucinda, and of course the natural thing for her to do would be to pick up the ceramic fish and bash his nose in, and you end with Lucinda staring at Lilly in… Continue

There are no words more important than the ones we tell ourselves to feel different, special, and we whisper those words to ourselves secretly in the early morning in the haze between awake and dreaming, before someone can remind us to pick up milk or schedule that meeting.

We tell ourselves that we are born for something, and once we have enough time or money or freedom, we will be able to discover what that is and suddenly everything will change, be better, because even if nothing is wrong no… Continue

When the local Korean War vet began hunting for commie bastards in western Wisconsin, my mother was very small.

He had a .22, which was not what he carried in the war, but he must have forgotten after all those years that it didn’t take as much to bring down a human as it did the deer that snuck wild oats and alfalfa in the summer from his farm and ours.

I say ours, but the land was gone long before I was born, sold to Chicago retirees who planted hostas along the sides of the farmhouse and ad… Continue

We pull our bikes off the sidewalk and approach the Sun, which is the first stop on the astronomy department's tour, and the Sun is on the ground, a ring of mulch and dandelions for a bit of yellow, and it is 24 feet in diameter of empty air.

We say how nice the Sun looks today and ride on .9 miles to Mercury, which is hidden until a student procures a walnut from behind his back.

A peach, an apple, a golf ball, a beach ball, a hula hoop, and two basketballs later I can't go on, and you and sh… Continue

The bruise on her elbow looks like Ohio with an island in the northern dip.

She doesn't fully remember how it got there, other than she banged into a booth at the bar with the giant oak tree that grows through the middle of it.

Actually, the tree is dead with plastic leaves attached by the college students who work there part time.

Maybe the whole tree is fake--that's the debate everyone always has in that bar, but she doesn't think so since one of the bar tenders is an econ major, and she th… Continue