He was wearing jeans, a HARVARD sweatshirt, and His name was Abu. He was floating twenty feet above the Chrysler building.
It was a squirrel. And, to his credit, the doctor did say it was a trained squirrel before he let it loose. I was on the table as he said it and I thought back to my early twenties. “I’ve got a stomach of steel!” I’d told… Read More
I stood in the swank lobby of a SoHo high-rise arguing with the domesticated ex-marine leashed to the front desk. He had a hole-punch of a mouth and little black eyes. His name was Jim. I pointed at my face. “Jim, you’ve seen my face… Read More