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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & Owner
Ray Rasmussen, General Editor

Volume 12, Number 2, June 2018
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Glenn Coats
Carolina Shores, North Carolina, USA


The Grapevine

Voices carry. The husband is asking about two hundred fifty dollars, says he owes money to just about everybody. “I’m sorry babe,” the wife says. “Work won’t give me any more hours.” I hear their voices go up and down—not quite an argument. Feels like someone whispered a secret in my hair. There’s a garbage can on its side. No one bothers to pick it up; carry it back to the house. Looks wrong like a horse down on a hillside. Cars are parked half on the drive, half off. Garage lights stay on all night long and it must cost them a fortune. Wife starts to prune the holly bushes then stops, leaves the bucket and gloves on the lawn. Someone should take that dog away from them. Never gets a walk, coat looks like wild brush. I’d offer to take him around the block but these days—I mind my own business.

rain on the inn
gossip settles
in the corners

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end

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