Archive for January, 2009

Angula rarely thought about the man he killed. Instead, he thought about the nights he shared his cell with a dead man.

You’re walking, but you slow down and it becomes hard to walk any slower and keep moving at the same time, and he still hasn’t driven by.  So you stop.

A stanza about a love beginning. A line about a beer can. Couplets describing degrees of gray and burning Montana sunsets.

Deputy Fred Lopez is halfway through a mandatory two week graveyard rotation. He’s on the mental health module. It’s midnight.

The text message is simple: Come home.