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thirty two

Your Raymond Carver Stories Matt Sherer

I did, I read some… I’m not sure I get ‘em, not like Spillane. Sure, as a boy, I killed a few things too, and luck learned me to drink Carver’s way. But, I have to tell you, the truth is that Tammy was out, somewhere, to bunko or bridge or book club. Around the story about the door-to-door salesman, or the cardigan guy, that sorry guy, I’d nearly polished a fifth of Maker’s and your book fell between me and the dregs of an empty stomach. And it lay splayed on the porch to dry in this morning’s sun, so that I might remember? Tammy must have found it, rinsed it ‘cause I had a blanket— good woman—and a cup of water. Always on top of the water and a chewable vitamin C to take the bite from the next day, from the days when the she loved her vodka, the crock-pot concoctions, watching the Wheel, before she quit with her sister, knocked up by some random chump. If only he knew what he set in motion.

Profile for Brushfire Literature & Arts

Edition 63 Volume 1  

Fall 2010. Brushfire is UNR's oldest literature & arts journal. Brushfire publishes biannually, check out our website for more info! unrbrus...

Edition 63 Volume 1  

Fall 2010. Brushfire is UNR's oldest literature & arts journal. Brushfire publishes biannually, check out our website for more info! unrbrus...

Profile for brushfire
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