We’re in the black Dodge with red leather-looking seats and push-button drive. No stick or three-on-the-tree. We’ve always had a pretty cool, modern car, that’s one thing I can say. But I think I’d rather have a stick or three-on-the-tree. Since he ain’t allowed to operate a got-damn automobile anymore, because of his seizures, I’m [...]
Tag Archives: w.a. smith
Background by W. A. Smith
May 16, 2006 – 1:39 pm
My dad and grandfather are together by the pond. The place is so big I can sneak up on anyone, stealing from an azalea bush over to the magnolia tree to gather a few of the hand grenades it manufactures, in case of enemy attack. Light and shade are everywhere. With the dry grass and [...]
Lunch With the Indians by W. A. Smith
February 20, 2005 – 1:33 pm
By W. A. Smith Foster is drawing a picture of a very tall lavender man in a cowboy hat. Deeper lavender trees grow near the man, barely reach his waist. Foster chooses an equally deep green for the giant’s hands, and without raising his eyes from his creation he asks his mother how old his [...]
The Birdbath by W.A. Smith
February 3, 2005 – 1:31 pm
by W.A. Smith “What bothers the hell out of me, like nothing else, is when I start singing a song’in the shower or something, or while I’m getting dressed’and you start singing it too.” The man paused and shifted the gun to his left hand so he could lift the coffee cup with his right. [...]
Crows Feet (page 3) by W.A. Smith
October 7, 2004 – 1:19 pm
By the time the joint is half-gone, Taylor is a believer. It is killer weed. He recalls his rookie year when the sergeant lit some in a training class so they could smell it ‘ all the jokes, eyeballs rolling, dope-crazed pinko/hippie perpetrators listening to the sergeant briefing them on the properties and peculiar effects [...]
Crows Feet (page 2) by W.A. Smith
October 7, 2004 – 1:18 pm
Floating beside the bed, leaning toward him, dreary artificial light around her. Makes her stand out, a vision. If she’s here, then it’s real. ‘Pauli?” he whispers. “Who else would it be?” She’s gentle and sturdy, something like a smile on her face. ‘You been dreamin’ of somebody I don’t know about?” “Yeah,” he says. [...]
Crow’s Feet by W.A. Smith
October 7, 2004 – 1:17 pm
by W.A. Smith Taylor Means does not consider his own little narrative to be anything unique: he’s lived in Atlanta all his life, there’s no secret wealth in his attic, no bodies buried in his basement; he’s a quiet guy, moderate mostly ‘ doesn’t even think about cheating on his wife. He’s just a cop [...]
A Kind of Memory by W.A. Smith
June 7, 2004 – 1:12 pm
by W.A. Smith They are sitting at the table: Grace, the quiet, graceful mother; Ellen, the sister from another planet; Emerson, the Daddy Emeritus; and Charley. Supper is roast beef and mashed potatoes with gravy…and lima beans. There is no room in Charley’s life for lima beans. He’s herded some of them into a split-open [...]
Delivery by W.A. Smith
April 12, 2004 – 1:11 pm
by W.A. Smith Emerson Johnson joined up soon after FDR finished his Day of Infamy declaration to Congress. Emerson was twenty-five, putting the final touches on his internship. He and Grace had not yet celebrated their first anniversary when he left. But Grace said later they both knew he would be coming back.
The Way Home by W.A.Smith
March 15, 2004 – 1:08 pm
by W.A.Smith Laura was sitting up, looking down at him. The blue sheet was pulled to her waist, her breasts rising with her breath. “Good morning, Sweet.”