Fantasy Winners

Were the Newtown Bluebirds getting worse? Their last loss was 19-0. The one before that, 17-0.

Coach Mel Fromberg, at the practice field, addressed the Little Leaguers.

"Winners. We're going to be winners."

“Close your eyes, everybody. "

It was to be a group-fantasy-session.

"See yourself as a winner. Then, see the whole team of winners…"

"Eddie? A winner?" Steve Bramwell, the second-baseman, said he couldn't see it.

Eddie Franklin, the shortstop, said the same of Steve.

"Try again," demanded Mel, his eyes still closed. But Steve? Eddie? The Bluebirds? Winners? What kind of task had Mel set for them all?

From Guest Contributor David Sydney

Sick World

It’s like a post-apocalyptic movie. A usually bustling city is eerily vacant. Essential supplies have come to include liquor, guns, and toilet paper. Who isn’t secretly embarrassed? Around midnight I take a puzzle apart just for the hell of it. The next morning my department holds a Zoom session on how to prevent cheating in online classes. Other professors mention they also have been having strange dreams. In mine, I’m eating Crown Fried Chicken on a bench while eyeballs the size of boulders roll across the grass and dirt, and a woman I recognize from TV weeps into her hands.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie Good is the author of What It Is and How to Use It (2019) from Grey Book Press, among other poetry collections.

Dreaming Of Mitch

I’m wearing my navy blue, long sleeve shirt that says, “Nevertheless She Persisted,” just like the one I have in real life. I’m standing on the shoulder of a mighty highway, with my thumb out! Me, looking to hitch a ride to Washington DC! Was Mitch even there? Was Congress still in session? What about security? That’s the trouble with dreams. They’re stingy with details. I’ll leave them to my ride, who’s shown up driving an eighteen-wheeler. He’s honking and honking that bazooka kind of horn. It’s saying hurry up. It’s saying you’ve got work to do, girl. Get in.

From Guest Contributor Linda Lowe