Zippo my Zippo

Cold against my thigh, I feel you in my pocket reminding me that I want to smoke. Your weight is comforting to me. Unlike your plastic imitators, you have substance, bulk, a heaviness that hints at your great worth. Ahhhh, my Zippo. My first was stamped with the Army Engineer logo. That made Zippo a life icon,…

The Anniversary—Hearts Too Full

Every day is the anniversary of something. Not all of them have a pointed, clear memory pushing to the surface, reminding you why it’s an anniversary. But each year you age, the calendar becomes more and more a mine field of special anniversarys. December 6th is a special one for me…it’s the anniversary of the…

When to breathe

Like hot dusty air, it burned with each breath. It didn’t matter that the air was clean and cool…my scene had me choking, my eyes watering. When to breathe? Writing my story (or rather, my story shoving me through a tube, squeezing me out at the other end with frantic key strokes) consumes me in…