Vignettes By Robert Vaughan

December 19, 2011 Comments Off on Vignettes By Robert Vaughan

Stubborn

Tina is ready to follow us anywhere. I try to tell her it’s a boy’s thing. Doesn’t matter. I tell her Tina, girls don’t climb trees. Don’t play with trucks. Don’t kiss other girls. She’s stubborn. Mom says Tina marches to the beat of a different drum. I’m like, only if that drummer is a majorette.

Corn Maze

I got lost in a corn maze this morning. I know you’re not supposed to panic, but this happened in Soho. I met a lot of other people in there. Many of them were in the arts. One girl told me she’d been in there since Labor Day. I think she said that out of shame. She was wearing white shoes.

Distance

You went but left your voice. It was everywhere at first. Then time does its sad business. Though it hurts less when I forget you, still I am reluctant. Like a parent coming upon a lost child’s toy; it’s hopeless to keep, a heartbreak to discard. One wants to honor love. To forget is callous, to remember destructive. Love should never be unwelcome. But it’s like a haunting, isn’t it? The beloved one returns, and you are afraid.

© 2011 Robert Vaughan, first appeared at Fictionaut.

Robert Vaughan’s plays have been produced in N.Y.C., L.A., S.F., and Milwaukee where he resides. He leads two writing roundtables for Redbird- Redoak Studio. His prose and poetry is published in over 125 literary journals such as Elimae, BlazeVOX, and A-Minor. He is a fiction editor at JMWW magazine, and Thunderclap! Press. Also hosts Flash Fiction Fridays for WUWM’s Lake Effect. His blog: http://rgv7735.wordpress.com

Prayer, Protest, Peace By Robert Vaughan

July 7, 2011 Comments Off on Prayer, Protest, Peace By Robert Vaughan

Prayer

I ride on a hymn and a song.

I fasten my seatbelt as the bumpy ride fills my nostrils with choppy air.

I talk to the moon. I’ve been talking to the moon for some time. Every single night, every hour. The moon says nothing back to me, but I continue talking to the moon.

Why will you never come?

I ponder the difference between a holiday and a holy day. I am another.

Your cheek under which flows your silent tears.

I can count them on one hand.

Protest

I forgot to turn on the oven. Then I turned it on, but forgot take it off broil. Then I forgot to turn the oven off.

The day does not lend itself to night.

My mind has flown. It’s gone from the everyday.

No one’s watching the oven!

Peace

All the details of my past are a swirling stream of dust. The sun illuminates my hand.

I’m fairly certain I placed my love message in a bottle, but I didn’t throw it far enough.

It didn’t reach the sea. I hope the sea rises to claim it.

© 2011 Robert Vaughan

Robert Vaughan’s plays have been produced in N.Y.C., L.A., S.F., and Milwaukee where he resides. He leads two writing roundtables for Redbird- Redoak Studio. His prose and poetry is published in over 125 literary journals such as Elimae, BlazeVOX, and A-Minor. He is a fiction editor at JMWW magazine, and Thunderclap! Press. Also hosts Flash Fiction Fridays for WUWM’s Lake Effect. His blog: http://rgv7735.wordpress.com

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