Right up until the point when I drowned, it was a pretty good day. I held the tiller of an empty nineteen-foot Zodiac, drifting just outside the surf zone of the Tuamotus atoll of Pukarua, a picturesque ring island of coconut palms, frangipani, and torch ginger….
Nonfiction
Like a Dazzle
We called it the Dick Book, but it wasn’t actually a book. It was a magazine—Teen Beat, Kirk Cameron on the cover—with several polaroids of a naked man tucked in between pages.
Encounters
He waits for an answer that will never surface, while I wonder why, after all these decades, this is what he remembers of me. I want to be elsewhere, and I am elsewhere, but not sure where, and I know where I don’t want to be.