Between rooms 3 and 4, cornered in tight, blinking randomly and humming a fat motor tune is the soda machine at the highway 5 motel.   Trucks run the road, their tires singing for home. Horns beep on frontage roads, where cars park and threats are heard.   A warm day slips into passing, opening … More HIGHWAY 5


A smudged light struggles to the sidewalk, escaping past greasy diner windows, blurring its last strength onto a traffic burdened surface. Lonely faces, fat arms, tattoos of knives and bleeding hearts pass under the tide of night. Hats tipped. Collars up. Nervous hands. Fists clenched. Fingers pointing. Unwashed faces. For all who seek, there is … More CITY DINER