Stephen Mejias

"And so," the hi-fi manufacturer musically says:
"I found myself in a situation where I was A/B-ing the CD player to the CD player!"

My speakers haven't moved very far from where they first landed on the night that John DeVore visited Jersey City. The Arros, after the Gibbons, found a similar home — a comfortable spot, if nothing else, which works fine enough for me. It's a spot that allows me to walk into my bedroom easily, without having to brush up against a side wall or trip over any turncoat cable. A spot that appreciates symmetry and cleanliness and my apartment's obsession with order.

Bottom of the 2nd, no score. Tom Glavine better gain some control. The walks are going to hurt.

"Guess what."
"What?"
"Chicken-butt."

Signs of sickness, with a scent like ennui, all over the apartment: dirtied tissues tossed to the floor, the many jilted cups of tea, unfinished this, unwashed that, empty cans of soup, the pale and quiet Moscode.