Tag Archives: Andy Stallings

Paradise

I was white, and straight, and male, and middle-class, suspicious of every instance of my own comfort and discomfort. Happy then in the here and gone, but now. The boy who was, then and later, my friend in the neighborhood, … Continue reading

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Paradise

“Take a warm-up life,” said the life coach. Some were buying second houses, some remodeling interiors for sport. A damnable unit of affluence and growth, entirely ours. A signature being, in every sense, a measure. But of six teenagers in … Continue reading

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Paradise

But still I was white, and straight, and male, and middle-class. I understood that forgiveness was a privilege extending from my threatening ask. Just ask any sentence I’ve ever written. If it’s flush with connotation I can’t stand here, and … Continue reading

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Paradise

For an hour, maybe more, they talked in the living room about misogyny and rape culture. Events unfolded from there with both hitch and restraint. Morality comes down to a few moments when you can’t not act. The nightmare, as … Continue reading

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Paradise

And all along I was white, and straight, and male, and middle-class. That was experience, that meal at the diner, that breath of exhaust. The morning dew was fresh, early to rise in the mowing of shaggy meadowlands. Again I … Continue reading

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Paradise

The blue of that day on the highway east, towards Chelan, meeting someone’s cousins, eating bad grocery store cherry pie on the hot blacktop. The convenience store parking lot, half my conception of heat. I thought the struggling grocery, Martha … Continue reading

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