• I smelled the bourbon sitting on the edge of the bar and coughed. I didn’t just cough, I snorted and gagged. The fumes of that strong, pure, alcoholic drink did me in.

  • I am tracking down my keys, which, in the frenzy of making a bottle, changing a diaper, and de-snow suiting my son, I haphazardly discarded in, what at the time, may have seemed like a logical place.

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, hoping 6 years, 1 month ago

    I was hoping to see you tonight. Not that I’ve been waiting or anything. It’s just, that, well . . . these things are boring along . . . or if you don’t know anyone. And I’m glad to see you.

    Do you want a soda?

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, mirage 6 years, 1 month ago

    There was a mirage of him the passenger window of my Ford Explorer. Like he was there like he used to be there – in that grey leather seat. Not so much navigating as ignoring the consequences of a wrong turn, and embracing my panic as I repeatedly, exit after exit, swerved across busy lanes of traffic to stay on course.

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, scuba 6 years, 2 months ago

    I went scuba diving once. Down deep to the sandy white ocean floor. Off the coast of an island somewhere south. Far away from what I consider reality. And to be down there, beneath the world, in another state, with another population, changed my view of everything above. And when I surfaced and returned – when I went north – I didn’t see people or…[Read more]

  • The intrigue in the eyes of Yogi Bear chasing after the cotton-tailed bunny bounding behind the jagged rock piles at the foot of the driveway let to a sudden jerk of the leash that shocked his walker, who lost grip of the leash handle letting him chase.

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, barrel 6 years, 10 months ago

    The barrel of clubs in the corner was filled with dinged up old treasures. Putters that hadn’t seen the light of day in years, if not decades, but were old, well-made, tools that did the job as well as the new-fangled alien clubs.

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, sure 6 years, 10 months ago

    I was so sure, that I set the come down. And I walked to her and said,”Hrllo, beautiful. Can I have this dance.” She looked at me with her blazing brown eyes And nodded. Just a little. And so I took her hand and walked with her to the edge of the laminate wood that was the dancers’ floor. Like the boxers ring. And I had made it this far. And I was…[Read more]

  • “Scatter, buster, before mom sees you on the tile.” The dog sulked backwards to his usual spot in the corner of the TV room. He was safe for not, but unhappy and wanted to play.

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, five 6 years, 11 months ago

    Across the street, backed by climbing ivy and silver graffiti hearts, is a young couple sitting on a green cement bench. The axis of his world tilting towards hers. A lean to her gravity – to the sunny disposition of her beautiful smile, and all of the kind things that come with it. And then he lifts his left hand, which is covered by a mitten,…[Read more]

  • She was a patient of life, as it administered its medicine in daily doses of freshly cut tulips on her round oak kitch table, delivered there by her husband after a rather mundane day at work. Of sunrises that greeted her as she turned right out of her driveway each morning to take her child to fourth grade. And of feeling of her baby’s beautiful…[Read more]

  • They were determined – on a mission – sent by the god that gave them orders – the government. And they sought to carry on that mission – to save as many lives as possible, in whatever way they could.

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, themselves 7 years ago

    Themselves got to go now. Don’t listen to the devil. But to the cool whisper of the morning dew that sticks to the soles of their ratty work boots. Their glossy penny loafers. And it says to them . . .

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, forth 7 years ago

    The fourth step leading up to the front post of my grand parents house was always a little loose. It squeaked and rocked back towards the street a fraction of an inch. The redish stain was wearing thin.

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, ants 7 years, 9 months ago

    She sat on the red and black buffalo plaid blanket we received from my uncle in Seattle and she kept taking enormous bites from a thick quartered slice of light pink watermelon. The clear juice from the melon was […]

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, flirt 7 years, 9 months ago

    She flirted with me like it was her middle name. Like it was the sun. Like there was a bookshelf full of books and a fresh pot of coffee. Like a dog barks at cars. Like when a President of the United States of […]

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, clue 7 years, 9 months ago

    “I have no clue what she wants for Valentine’s day!”
    “Really? You have NO clue? I barely hang out with you two, and, man, I can tell you she’s been dropping hints like they’re the sun setting in […]

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, maze 7 years, 9 months ago

    The fog set in and our pace quickened. “We’re going the wrong way,” John said. “The moss on the tree indicates we’re going south. Camp is north.” We’d been hiking for three hours and none of us knew where north […]

  • Chris Rogers commented on the post, adopt 7 years, 9 months ago

    We learn to adopt at a young age. Oh, wait, scratch that. I was thinking that you said, “adapt.” Well let’s adopt a new direction to this post and think about it for a little bit before we get ourselves in more trouble.

  • He was sitting on the porch near the shadow of the gazebo, rocking on the coiled-wire hinge of his deck chair. The August sun was waning as evening – and with it dinner – approached. He allowed himself to let his […]