Category Archives: Maude Larke

At Kristy’s by Maude Larke

I sit in the orange haze by myself with a whisky sour and watch the couples on the floor, no couple the same with each dance. Something catches my eye, trips my mind open: a particular couple. Dances danced before slip into my eyes. I watch those dances, relax into them, and mistake the warmth of the whisky, remembering the slackness, remembering the moisture – “Hi, honey, can I sit with you?” I have forgotten myself again. I turn in my chair, rise, walk away to sit again at a table nearer the bar, reschool my face, redraw my insides. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let a door swing open again.

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Timing Off by Maude Lark

Gaëlle was sure that Puffball was snooping around the new apartment to find the corners that she would make her own. She walked leisurely through it as she munched a carrot and closed the windows against the coming evening coolness. The novelty of the steep staircase to a second half of the place had been a shock for the cat; she had wiped out on the glossy paint of the steps. Gaëlle wondered where she had chosen to curl up and pout. She walked into the bathroom just as Puffball’s tail slipped from the skylight and into the waiting air.

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Vagabond by Maude Larke

The highway has changed quite a bit since last I travelled it; it cuts through a greener, shaggier land than I remembered. But you, friend, haven’t changed at all. You picked me up, thumbing, off the exhaust-choked asphalt edge in the same old car you had let me out of two years ago at my home (you thought), the house I had left wordlessly. You came to quite a sudden halt; you stared, rather aghast, as I slid into the low seat; you asked where I was heading; I answered “yes.” You moved the stick shift with a startled hand and we sailed down the highway. And no one seeing us together would have known if you were drifting with me or I was coming home with you. But, you see, we are both drifters; today we just thought to drift together once more for a change, for a while.

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