It took me all morning to build the fence.  I used old lawn chairs, cardboard boxes, and rusty sign posts from the dumpster behind 7-Eleven.  I meant for it to look like Camden Yards.  The right field

Across the basement, your best friend pitches graduation balloons like they’re weightless baseballs. You swing with a curtain rod that had fallen behind the couch (your mom will ask about that

Mike and Nick and Tom are already playing stickball in the back lot when Dad drops you off at P.S. 236. On one brick wall they’ve chalked a strike zone, on the floor is a powder-blue pitcher’s mound

Bishop and I were smoking a joint on the pitcher’s mound. We drew dicks with our fingers next our school’s logo. It was mid-March, around midnight. I stopped drawing dicks and looked up at the empty

Let them do the majority of the talking. Laugh at their jokes. Ask them about their motorcycle, their new car, their recent trip to the Maldives.

She gives me a pocketknife. It has an ergonomic handle with smartly placed finger notches, a nice stainless-steel blade that folds up, a sturdy, low-riding pocket clip—perfect for those inconvenient moments you need to cut something loose.

By late August, Mary-Beth was sweating on her front porch swing, a bottle of Budweiser resting on the table her daughter Madison gave her for Mother’s Day a decade earlier. Mary-Beth had been watching

I have made my decision: I am going to set myself on fire.

It was Mr. Wexler, my old boss, who made a second me.

We preened our signatures in the cheerful attic, Owen’s royal insignia and my fallen few ants.

They said that Xianrenzhang took your heart because she didn’t have her own. She was looking for one that was just the right size, not too big and not too small, that she could slot into the cavern in her chest.

Hector loved, loved, loved having a black friend, but he could never admit it.

The thing about mason jars is that you can stuff them with anything you want: pasta, beans, ashes.

The quietness of No Frills was unnerving. The sound of wheels and the buzzing of the lights overhead filled Xiu's ears. 

What am I doing on a train to Philadelphia?

Do you know how to leave this Earth? Because I really need to leave this Earth tonight. Jettison my skin. Supernova in a brilliant burst.

Brains, when they are fried, don’t taste mushy and soft. They are tender and flavorful, like most battered things.

They were goldfish, and not even the pretty kind: they weren’t even really yellow, more like the color of the roots of your teeth, more like the color of a pus-glazed mosquito bite.

The moon came out, riding on a motorbike, his head hatted, silver-blue, attached.

We compiled our snacks and made for the playhouse basement.

Fuck you.

Holly had a list of endangered plants.

I never kissed another man, but I danced for one once.

“Are you open?” "For you, yes."

“Baby Cakes.” I don’t think she has ever called me that.