Louie, Louie

I see him, old Louie and he just stands there and stares like some big old thing. His shades loping. His brows furrowed. His sills dusty. But everyday I sing …

Tram Diary Entry Five

There’s something in the air. I don’t know what it is. But the people are howling and the stray dogs are quiet and it scares me. The tram rattles by. …

Tram Diary Entry Four

He waddles through the front door bearing a rustic suitcase and treasure shaped box, most likely holding all of his life’s possessions. Mauritius, he says to me. I go Mauritius. …

Tram Diary Entry Two

Rain finds solace in the ends of my straw hair for a moment then is absorbed faster than the trams do pull up before me and he leans out of …

Tram Diary

I don’t know why, but in much the way I gain inspirational ideas from messages I read in toilet cubicles, I also gain from the simple act of taking a …