by Kenneth Clay
Somewhere in Atlanta, Georgia. I had driven here from Vegas in three-and-a-half days. My car was simply a pile of rubble. And yet, somehow, it held itself together. I was growing reliable on it. Attached. I had to pick out a name. Perhaps, I’d name it Carla. A...
by Kenneth Clay
Midnight. Somewhere outside a motel six in downtown Phoenix, Arizona. It was a fine summer night and the air was dry. I had just come into town the backway. Straight from the empty desert. My hair was undone. There were bags around my sleepless eyes. And I stunk like...
by Kenneth Clay
It’s not that I don’t like the human race. I’m not some maniac hellbent on destruction and malice. I help people out. I attend parties and I smile, laugh, dance, and joke. I engage in one-on-one conversations with friends. I can say “good morning,”...
