coming to terms with suburbia

I cupped my hand, inchedyou, forgotten friend,closer. We caught up over coffeeat one of your Star-bucks. You offeredto pay, typicalyou. “Everything’s onthe house,” you said, “This venti cup, theserich mahoganychairs, those millionpassing cars, a blankcheck for property.”When you left, Iclosed my eyes for asecond and lost youamong the cars,moving from one placeto another like the formal nomadwho never understood “lost.”zachary...

»»  read more