Postcards of the Hanging

Yes, I received your letter yesterday about the time the doorknob broke. When you asked me how I was doing was that some kind of joke? Late afternoon rushing down the steps for the train whose destination I can only…

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Did I Miss a Memo?

No one came in to San Francisco today. The train felt almost post-apocalyptic. Of course not a real apocalypse. How could the trains still be running after a real apocalypse? And there would be no others aboard rather than the…

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The Race Goes On

My job is making me a racist. I probably mean something very different by this than you might expect. Perhaps because my definition of “racism” is as much “awareness of race” as anything else. I could go into an extensive…

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