Oh my God! There’s a box for me!

A Short Story by Mary Ellen Ziegler

Oh my God! There’s a box for me!
Right here in the foyer of my 1st apartment!

Who would send me something from Frederick’s of Hollywood?
I see the label with my name spelled correctly for the first time, right there in plain letters
“Mary Ellen”! OMG maybe it’s a joke?

Someone is sending me this to make me feel like a sexy new woman out on her own!

Ok, I’ve got to take it in and open it before anyone else in the building sees it.
Carefully I unwrap the box only tearing the packaging slightly and what do I find?
Slippers – size 10! Pink high heeled slippers with great big feathers all over the top that sway in the breeze with every step I take.

WHO would send me these and get the SIZE wrong? Oh it’s probably deliberate – sending me a size 10 because I’ve gained a little weight – in my feet?!?

Come on…Everyone knows I’m a size 8.


A Poem by Sherrie Acorn

So I took the vitamin from the company that sues everyone
even though they know they are wrong–how did I not know this?–
and my liver went on a rampage. Did you know a lot of people–
too many to count–take supplements and end up in hospitals
their livers injured, some of the time past repair, but why?
Can it be they are not regulated? Can it be the halo effect?
I’ve learned my lesson–from now on I’ll do my own due diligence.

The Last Toast

A Poem by Maik Strosahl

I drink to the house already destroyed
To my whole life, too awful to tell
To the loneliness we together enjoyed
I drink to you as well
To the eyes the deadly cold imbued
The lips that betrayed me with lies
To the world for being so cruel and rude
And God, who didn’t save us or try.
— Iris DeMent lyrics based on a
translated poem by
Anna Akhmatova

This bottle near empty,
my tongue nearly numb,
these lungs with their rattle,
these coughs thieve away
any breath I have left.

Dear lord,
please forgive
the spite in my soul,
that sent post of remorse
to her box from the one
I am soon to enter,

And may it’s dagger take swift
the life that wasted mine,
the wheeze of this virus to paper—
one last swallow of rye,
one last puff of air
‘fore my body goes cold.

The Gods Talked

A Poem by Michael H. Brownstein

So the gods talked
and nothing really happened
until a storm from the south
breached the enclave and blackened.

Then the smallest god of all
stood up and spoke his piece:
Nothing will change ever
Cause the people are not geese—

For geese ride together in the sky,
each takes a turn in front,
and they depend on each other
when the wind becomes too blunt.

If people could lead and follow,
a lot of this would be solved—
so my suggestion to all of us
is let the people evolve.

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say, I used everything you gave me.”
– Erma Bombeck

“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.”
– Lao Tzu

“Whoever loves much, performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well.”
–Vincent Van Gogh