Thomas Ramey Watson

All day he’s tasted it. Last night too. His eyes burning, like the city where smoke still chars the sky. History will not record exactly how it was. Some perhaps will grasp wisps of the story. He knows his part. She looked back. He yearned to. You cannot live so long together and not lean into . . . . Continue Reading »

Suggesting that I get the shotgun to shoot down Grandmother’s ideals, Grandfather told me how his father demonstrated that women were fools- why, if he dangled his foot out the window for ten minutes, he’d have a woman like a ring circling every toe. Grandfather’s cynicism reflected in his . . . . Continue Reading »