i read a new yorker story the other day
it had everything a new yorker story ought to have
it had lesbians, professors, sexual degradation
multiple marriages, marijuana
alienated children of a certain age
woods and second homes
snow
i could never write a story like that
i don’t know any professors and i have only one home
it’s pitched in the middle of the desert
far from the woods, out where it never snows
(Copyright 2023 by Tetman Callis.)