Stories No. 85 – Mario Duarte

illustration of orange sedan

“Monkeys, time to go!” Papi yells in his firm but gravelly voice. I lag behind at the end of the K-Mart checkout counter, eyeing the Mars candy bars. Aleta, my younger sister, kicks my heels. I trudge forward almost bumping into a white woman pushing a cart who suddenly stops after hearing Papi. Her lips stretch into a worldwide oval, ruby red lipstick smeared on her cigarette-stained teeth. 

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Poetry No. 38 – Alex Wells Shapiro

Grappling for EJ the shared gaze had always been falling on avatars, – but we are young and naked because guys get changed together. – so, unleashed, following eyes, limbs forming fluid knots sliding through our own creases, – long and smooth like Medusa’s dancing hairs – giggling into submissive, one had to finish atop, […]

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