In a storefront laundry on North Clark Street brown draperies release this quiet man who has my shirts.

Took the wife to a pancake house the other day. National franchise good food

Midnight in San Francisco. Yoshiko is 93 and she can’t sleep so she sits in her recliner and nibbles on a rice cake,

A friend in England rings me up and we talk about this and that. He asks if my president’s in touch with all that’s going on and I say he should be in touch, going to

In a yard abandoned this winter when the owner moved grass is growing this spring

He tried so hard to be everybody’s friend, agreed with everything we said. Some of us liked him, others were indifferent,

It was her birthday. She was only five the dawn we went out to look at roses in Grandma’s garden

Despite the digital holocaust of computers and cell phones, Newberry Library remains the Vatican of books with the right sounds,

Take it from Martin, if you live in an old house, as much as you love it, bad things happen Despite maintenance,

“Quiet, please,” I tell her, “I want to hear the music.” She is sitting next to me again, this time on a paisley couch, a woman in a lime bikini I met

If I hadn’t died, I’d still be bouncing along in that Greyhound bus through the mountains swigging a Coke.

I’ll have to ask some preacher what if he comes when it’s inconvenient when I’m bowling or lifting a stein of lager

Even as a child Charles couldn’t forgive other chi… not for something they had done but rather for who they were. They were inferior and couldn’t he…

When the dogwoods bloom pink and white blossoms create canopies of joy. Donal Mahoney