batadam482's profile

The hallway stood silent witness to the sound of gathering books and sliding desks. I had misjudged her actions in the waning moments of the lecture, and now I stood alone in the hallway, waiting to walk the 50 feet to the hallway where she turned right and I went straight. I had nothing to say, and I did not want the rendezvous to seem forced. Accidental was better. I chose to employ the multi-faceted cell phone maneuver, which consists of staging a fake conversation with oneself using the c...

I like bikes. Not the kind that you clench between your thighs and hug like its your girlfriend, and when you want to go faster you just stroke the throttle and whisper sweet nothings in it’s ear all the way to the second home that came with the motorcycle in your midlife crisis rich kid fantasy package deal. I like the kind of bikes that every inch, every mile, and every pedal stroke further takes some strength from your legs, and only by the nature of what cycling is does that energy get tr...

Three months, five days, and some random amount of minutes and seconds into my freshman year of college, when I lived on the third floor of a brick tower in the desolate remains of cow pasture, I found a hole underneath my bed. It was a small hole, and I assumed with disgust that it was a rodent’s home. I was not surprised; both my roommate and I had a habit of leaving food out; he ate chips and mints when he was drunk, I horded bananas that I was determined to eat but never did. For several ...

A Classic February Grey and easily muffled. The snow has not yet rotted brown from automobiles, salt and sand. The heater keeps a constant Exasperated whir. Maybe it is trying to fill the car With something other than pretensions The parking lot security camera Is pointed away But I pretend and suck in my cheeks make my eyes dark clouds It is February And I am sitting in my mother’s Volvo Waiting for a friend Waxing poetic about sitting in a parking lot It is February And the snow has not yet...

The orange light robs the almond that I threw of its grace The grey stereo dictates electric guitar, British singer and a slow, and even pace.