For the last fifteen or so years I've been living with a bunch of dead guys at a motel in West Texas. Like the characters in my stories, I'd really like to move on, see the world, go places. But I'm just like them. Anchored by love, worn down by circumstances and fascinated by how much there really is underneath it all. So I keep writing their stories and tell myself that someday, when I've got this all out of my system, I'll write deep, meaningful literature about... something else. In the meantime, this is a place for the short attention spanned. I'm making a commitment to keep it small here. Flash fiction and scenes from the life inspired by, The Bella Vista Motel.
We like the being of her inside us, little girl Rosa, so dark, so inward looking, so secret wishes keeping. To the man man Romeo, she is quiet and obedient, to the Romeo girl Madge, she is well behaved, and all the time working and working to make nice our window eyes, our hard white shinies, our tree-skin ground. She peels off the hiding shrouds from the sleeping places, she lays down fresh hair for the feet, she brings and she takes away. She touches us all over with quick little hands and they forget to see her eyes, so they are not knowing her. But we see her pretend woman hips in the mirrorways, and we see her eye sparkles sliding sideways when the boy man Slappy passes near, oh yes, we are all the time seeing little girl Rosa's eyes, so we are knowing her very well. Sister girl Maria waits for her, lonely in our belly, but we want to roll little girl Rosa around on our tongue, we want to hold her in our mouth, tucked between teeth and wall for slow tasting, happy waiting, sister girl Maria has gone quiet, she will happy wait too.