A Parking Lot Full Of Stones

The party store the Guls owned was within walking distance of our house. But let me back up a minute to explain that very Midwestern sentence. In Michigan, where I grew up, a "party store" is not a place to buy helium-filled balloons, or economy packs of Power Ranger-themed napkins and paper plates, no. A …

In One Breath

A cop informed me that my son was both homosexual and dead. Shot at a bar he had apparently haunted. “Will you accept the body?” the cop asked. A thousand bats’ wings pulsed inside me before I said "No."

The Songs We Sing

Sometime in the middle of May, in the blinking daylight hours between rolling fog and thunderstorms, the buildings along Lincoln Avenue inhale. The restaurant workers in their white aprons have thrown open the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that line the fronts of their buildings. You have to fight against the draw of their breath as you walk by them, and the …