People Like That

At the party you told me the story of an insecure man who approached a
writer after her reading.  "So did the man end up leaving his wife?"
The writer really hadn't thought about the question for a long time,
so it was easy to lie and say, "Yes.  Yes, he did."  We had a little
laugh at people like that, rummaging literature for answers like the
Bible.  After a few margaritas you forgot and repeated the story, this
time whispering the response in my ear.  Then you closed your eyes and
toppled closer.  You were so tired of twisting off the ring in your
pocket.

The Kettle Clock

In the studio stoops a man and beside him a bicycle.  He is goggled
and torched, melting tires to the floor as handlebars crook beneath
his arm.  For years he has lived the ocean, taking, bending.  He
builds the things that come and lets the others drift away.  Next door
a kettle sounds.  He stands, strips to the waist, and sprints out to
the peninsula with memories of tea and tide.  They never wait.




Perhaps, Eaten

The Invisible Book of Deep Sea Fishing.  That's all I remember about
the library book.  The title started me reading around shutting time.
I didn't have a checkout card, so I stashed the book between two
fusion titles to keep it safe from snatching.  If I reshelved the book
I'd risk someone stranding me in the Atlantic drift, fingers cramped
on a halfbent rod, blistered from all day yanking and clubbing under
the haloblaze.  I bustled to the library after work the next day and
searched the hiding shelf.  But the book had vanished.  It must have
been absorbed by its neighbors, or perhaps, eaten by a title.

PF POTVIN is the author of The Attention Lesson (No Tell Books). His work has appeared in Born Magazine, Sentence, Memorious, No Tell Motel, Sleepingfish, and elsewhere. He serves on the staff of Drunken Boat, runs ultramarathons, and currently resides in Miami, FL.  Visit him at www.pfpotvin.com.