Reaching Out
by Victor Rangel-Ribeiro
Issue No. 87 ~ August, 2004
"Two nights in a row I've had this dream. Last night it just went on and on; last night it was terrible."
"Two nights in a row I've had this dream. Last night it just went on and on; last night it was terrible."
The cabin was different, the location the same, and the blue water of Ontario spread out from the dock to a slender row of weeds and out beyond to the other shore where the green woods blended behind the sands of the beach.
She didn't look at the palm trees, soldiers hitchhiking, or the little kids selling bananas and bread to passengers in cars waiting for the light to change. She looked at her own reflection in the the bus's window.
It looks like a dwarf lives here,” my father jokes as we stand looking at my apartment. It’s a typical studio – futon, television, stereo, and books on the floor. I don’t say anything. My father goes from room to room fixing things. He fixes …
As soon as I saw Ruth’s car backing into the driveway I ran out onto the lawn, and when she opened her door I said, “In urban communities it has been the potato which has almost single-handedly brought about the abolishment of scurvy.” Ruth handed …
It’s June, in the evening, a little past eight. The day has been warm, with lots of sun. The sky is bright still, but soon a stretching dusk will come. Residual traffic surfs along the main road to the city. Car radios hum. In the …
Mario Savio is dead at the age of fifty-three. Winded while moving his furniture into his new home in San Francisco, he sat down at the kitchen table and had a massive coronary. His wife told us at the funeral that he had seemed embarrassed …
It’s a bright gray afternoon, air vivid and bristling with that light just before a snowstorm. The salt on the sidewalk sparkles beneath Alex’s boots. The rush hour sounds fade as she heads north, cutting across the huge park that bisects the city. An oasis …
The Mah Jong Cafe was across the street from the Gulf. Even though it was late October, the sun was warm and the breeze sultry. The waves made little more than a lapping sound that was hard to hear through the passing traffic and the …
She had a wooden cockroach, inch and a half long, hanging from each ear, and I told her, “Man, Neena, I can get you the real thing twice that size. We raise them bigger than Rottweilers in here. Nastier, too. You want a breeding pair?” …