At a Co-op in Austin

Jameson Fitzpatrick All week I’ve been drinking in the morning instead of reading the news. Now a pretty shorthaired girl says we’ll be bombing Libya by tomorrow— but tonight there’s a rumor of fireworks, and a burly blond’s chosen my waist to wrap a bulging arm around. He’s a tank of a man, with thick,… More

The Babysitter

Jameson Fitzpatrick Years later, I ride my bike past his house and he’s washing his car in the driveway, the garden hose coiled at his feet, suds running up his arms. (Is his shirt off, or do I imagine that later, in the shower?) I’m surprised at how handsome he is. I’m eleven now, which… More