War Without Rules

There were days when the explosions didn’t subside. The sirens became more and more frequent, especially at night. We began to sleep badly. Then one morning, while hurrying to the market, I was struck by flying debris. At the hospital the doctor first looked around to make sure no one was listening who shouldn’t be. “I just need to grab a lab coat and one egg and I can fix this,” he said. He cut my feet open and put pennies in the incisions before sewing them back up and wrapping them in bandages. He said they were lucky pennies. From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is a poet and collage artist on Cape Cod. His latest poetry books are Famous Long Ago (Laughing Ronin Press) and The Bad News First (Kung Fu Treachery Press).

Signs

“Look for shiny pennies, rainbows, Monarch butterflies, they’re all signs she’s trying to connect with you,” my friend Jason tried to cheer me.

“Mom hated butterflies. They made her sneeze.”

Jason shrugged. “All the more reason she’ll come back as one. Karma.”

“What do I say to her? In two weeks you’ll die and I’ll feel godawful losing you all over again?”

“You’ll know what to say,” Jason smiled.

So when my mother alighted on my nose while I sat in her garden, I pinched her buttery wings and wiped my hands on my pants. “Shouldn’t have come back, Mom.”From Guest Contributor Marc Littman

At Least It Gets Me To Work And Back

I pass the dump truck parade on my way to work, and I pray the spider cracks in the windshield of my creaking and shaking and ground-scraping savior will remain intact until tomorrow. But this is the end for it. The heavy glass shatters on me, pouring down with a ripping gust of gravel and unpaid bills. I cover my scrunched face to protect from the impending costs. I bleed my next paycheck into the repairs. There is a new scar on my credit report, just next to my student loan debt. My last breath is spent coughing up pennies.

From Guest Contributor Stacy Gorse

Another Sign Of The American Decline

From a young age, Megan enjoyed the feel of new money against her skin. She would save her pennies, ride her bike to the corner bank, and trade them in for brand new dollars. Her mom would frequently find her naked in her bedroom, rolling around on her newly-acquired currency.

As an adult, Megan developed a gambling addiction. She fell into bankruptcy on three separate occasions and ruined two marriages, one of which was her own.

But when the treasury secretary succumbed to the latest bird virus, the president could find no better choice to assume the vacant cabinet position.