HERE

The very first time I saw you there was Highsmith in your eyes

I supposed it was all the empty chatter you despised

It could’ve been misanthropy or cunning or delight

I reckoned I would find out if I made it through the night

We took that stale old fairy tale and punched it in the gums

Headlong into hotels, motels, palaces and slums

Montego to Vancouver down to Brooklyn NYC

I’m home no matter where I be since you came back for me

Here is where I want to be

Here is where I’m going to be

I’m studying the dashboard cracks by the light of a cigarette

Your shadow slips in view, yeah it’s you, I can tell by your silhouette

Now we’re in the car, we’re on the road, I see the moon is running too

When the sun comes up we’re still debating just who kidnapped who

Here is where I want to be

Here is where I’m going to be

Here is where I want to be

Here is where I am

The Birth of Myself: An Unabridged Biography

I crouched in the corner an' sucked on a dry-erase marker.   I had heard on the TV that drinkin' a quart of pool water twice a day every day for a fortnight cures depression – so, it bein' my third day on that regimen, I reckoned I was really startin' t'feel it...

SQUAWK BACK: Just a Little Bête Noire...

SQUAWK BACK: Just a Little Bête Noire...: "a short short story by Ehren William Borg I was splattered on the walls and soaked into the carpet. I felt like a worm in a compost heap in..."

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SQUAWK BACK: The Cinematographer's Aboulia: "by Ehren William Borg Format: flash fiction Length: 241 words May 25, 2011 Cobwebs in the corners of the room mimic flags hanging limply in..."

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SQUAWK BACK:  A Field Guide to My Neighbor's Handlebar Moustache: "by Ehren William Borg Format: flash fiction Length: 637 words May 25, 2011 I slither back toward consciousness as my eyes adjust to the pu..."

Excerpt from WORKING POOR FAMILIES PROJECT brief

The Working Poor Families Project policy brief: winter 2010-2011


Key Findings from 2009:

  1)  There were more than 10 million
low-income working
families in the United States,
an increase of nearly a quarter
million from the previous year.

  2)  Forty-five million people,
including 22 million children,
lived in low-income working
families, an increase of 1.7
million people from 2008.

3)  Forty-three percent of working
families with at least one
minority parent were low-
income, nearly twice the
proportion of white working
families (22 percent).

4)  Income inequality continued to
grow with the richest 20
percent of working families
taking home 47 percent of all
income and earning 10 times
that of low-income working
families.

FICTION: The Dog-Leg

I see now that it is story time. Very well, then. Here we go: a story. A sort of “once upon a time” thing. Right.

So, I suppose it needs, if not deserves, a title, don’t you? Let us see…how about something with the name of an animal in it? OK. The story about to be told during story time today is called this: A Visit to the Doctor.

Wait, there’s no animal name there. Yes, this story is entitled simply, The Dog-Leg. Enjoy. The story, that is, which is so very aptly named because…

Once upon a time –

He simply had no choice. That was all, what recourse did he have?
Oh, such grave misfortune, thought Hyde. Why? he asked himself as he hobbled awkwardly down Burnside Boulevard, his trench coat wrapped tightly around his beleaguered, sulky body. In his thoughts, he repeated the major events of his life -- or as his memory had preserved them, anyway. But they all seemed to him major events only insofar as they were all, down to the last, catastrophes.

He rounded the corner onto the broad, bleak patch of park; he considered this a shortcut only because he avoided the streetlights. His leg certainly was not feeling right. That was for rotting sure. Of course, who would not feel a pang of indignant confusion at being in such a state as that of our poor Hyde?

“I just hope it remains asleep until we get into the office,” said Hyde to no one in particular, limping doggedly through the snowy path through Windsor Park. His nose was nearly frozen, as it was very cold, and even windier than usual. He spotted the door to the medical office as he emerged onto Evans Street, and looking carefully both left and right, Hyde ambled as quickly as he could, and with great effort to be gentle, proceeded across the street and threw open the door to Doctor Craven’s office.

He was dismayed when he closed the street door behind him and turned to look upon a long, steep staircase leading, presumably, to Dr. Craven’s practice. Hyde became suddenly aware of the stuffiness and oppressive heat of the foyer. He realized that he was still clutching his trench coat over his chest, and opened the front and took off his scarf. His poor nose was stinging like an angry jellyfish as it thawed, and as he gingerly touched it with a gloved finger, he muttered all sorts of unmentionable imprecations, which are surely not fit for story time.

Hyde began the arduous ascent up the mountain of steps, barely breathing for fear of his dog-leg acting up suddenly. After a few dozen steps, which carried him barely even one-third of the way up, Hyde decided that he was faint and sat down heavily upon the twenty-fifth step. He pulled a handkerchief from his shirt pocket,wiped his damp forehead, and replaced it to said pocket, which had a large hole in it. The handkerchief poked stupidly out of the bottom of the faulty pocket, but Hyde did not notice that. He was, at that moment, staring tenuously at his right leg, eyes full of dread and animal fear.