das golfspiel

the school will provide only one printer cartridge

"Stay in the corner!" I wasn't his favorite sport, but I wasn't a bad tiger either. But then I got it. My shirt was full of sweat, and it dripped on the markings of the court. The scuffs from the shoes that had once been on it came off. The janitors used tennis balls on brooms, but my perspiration did the job. The city was dark out, and my house was far away, so the bleachers made adequate home as I conversed. I couldn't help watching those muscular arms working away. And there was my realization. I knew it was a sham from the start, but I now knew it didn't make sense.

-l fletcher

running from the sunlight here

He crawled from his cage with gashed cuticles, his scrotum sliding across the court. People dribbled the ball around him. They did not notice him and he did not notice them. Yet it was a cake in the sand that had dropped its ticket in a deep chasm, condemned to rot in the desert. Industrialization had begun, and he slept in a central location. He slept and many dreams crossed his head as the city was built up around him. He slept as and many dreams crossed his head as the pigs were scrunched into plastic bags and shipped away in trucks. Before the star shined again, before its radiance melted the morning frost, its face ensured the unity of our culture, he would escape. He made his little home out of nature's gifts--grass. Ants crawled around him, but they did not notice him and he did not notice them. The ground eroded beneath his back. "I think it's time to go back home," but when he got back there, he found an anthill drenched in arsenic. "Oh what have I done!"

-matt laher