Author Archives: T.R. Wolfe

Childhood I know of a place. A place where the wind breathes The Beach Boy’s Kokomo. Where jet-black storm clouds threaten the horizon. But never rain. Where the aroma of wet alfalfa clings to nostrils. Where a dozen Collie puppies bark pure happiness. Where kids leap from car bumper to hoop rim and get yelled [...]

Dear John You are the one on the far left. You are the one sitting lower than the others. You look completely alone. And not for that reason do I always choose you. You are always the cleanest one. Because the man-code says you can’t be used, only if you’re the only open one. But [...]