Girl Who Came Guns aBlazin’ by Kennedy Dawn Stearns Mama always said nothing made more of a ruckus than Kurt and I running down the tin steps leading up to her lone trailer with our canteens strapped to our belt loops knocking against our bodies. We were all bones then…
Read MoreMy Plastic Dreams by Mark Budman Once, in the past or future, but definitely not in the present, I worked as a transportation minister for a friendly dictator, whose name was neither Hitler, nor Stalin, nor Kim Jong-Un, but whose mustache was toothbrush, whose smile was sardonic to the point…
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