Confused, the sofa and hutch face each other in the driveway, next to the chainsaw and tractor. Hanging on a rack outside the garage door, one purple, fuzzy bathrobe waves nervously in the wind. Nobody notices how loud the curling iron, sitting on the lazy-susan, reflects the morning sun. Both arms full of bedsheet and coffee mugs, a mother scolds her daughter for touching the scooter, waiting patiently by the box of Christmas decorations. Just sold and carried to someone’s t

To the early-bird doe in Astoria the other night who took my seat on the hill by the decrepit house where one can watch the ocean swallow the melting sun, my apologies if I was brusque and abrasive in shooing you off and claiming your spot on the grass. It was still warm. And while I admit it may have been impolite, let’s be clear, you are a deer and you can plop down damn near anywhere. What’s the sunset to you? Do we both savor a delicious view? Is this yo

I followed Emma wherever she went when I was a little girl. A ragtag redhead with button eyes and a chubby, cotton tummy strung together with blue thread and a mouth that tilted to one side if you looked at her straight on. Having an imaginary friend, you see, made my life extraordinary. When you’re five years old, your options are limited. But Emma’s passport was illuminated by official stamps from every place on earth. And she took me with her. She found me everywher