photo by Joshua Coleman on Unsplash

by Philip Anderson 

1.

She was determined not to feel one way or another about Dan or his birthday, so Rebecca flirted with a gay guy at the international art book fair in Berlin. She was there as the representative of Moorland Books, a small press based out of Oakland that she and a friend had founded years earlier at San Francisco Art Institute. 

“What did you do at SFAI?” he asked. “What’s your medium?” His name was Bunny. He was a photographer, had gone to RISD,

by Bart Plantenga

photo: collection of the author

You and I cannot believe our eyes anymore. Observe: A man on a glimmering stretch of walk in a tight, shiny suit, the kind start-up guys wear, was jimmying the lock on my bike with what could have been a hunting knife.

“HEY!” Startled, he pivoted and dashed off. I gave chase because I’d been reassured by characters seen in crime dramas that chase scenes usually end with their man in cuffs.

He was young, so it surprised me to be gaining on him so quickly.

Living in one of those fifteen-story domino type apartment buildings on the outskirts of
Cheongju, South Korea. When I went to bed at night, I could hear screams in the walls. All over
the apartment. I sometimes walked each floor, one end to the next, listening for reverberations
against the metal apartment doors, but nothing. No sound at all. Once back in bed, the screams
kicked up all over again. Men screaming, women screaming, children screaming, like a
collection of lost souls. I couldn’t tell if the screams resulted from shock, or were begging for
mercy,

            No one knows why the aliens decided to land off the coast of Costa Rica.

            Landed is the wrong word. They hovered above the ocean, the space between the base of their vessel and the water below unreachable. David and Venus had seen photos taken from a distance, the vessel looked like a hole in the image, a shard of obsidian or onyx dropped onto a page. Had they landed in the water with any force, their ship would’ve flooded the small beaches, driving out the tax-evading locals and bronzed ex-pats selling woven jewelry and knick-knacks from folding tables,

Mom told everyone how you were born in somebody’s living room in San Francisco while her feet were held down; she was telling your dad to sing while she pushed; so he sang “You Are My Sunshine” and then said mom looked blue because he was on acid; you were born blue; that’s what your dad said; blueberry; baby blue; blue like mom when your dad was supposed to take you to the park but ran away instead; our mom is a good woman; I know she tried; she hit her head when she was nine; did you know that?;