Pumped Up Kicks
When we were children, I pushed the swing too high and you flew off, mouth frozen wide; you skinned your knee which bled fast and thick. I cried because you’re the only one who still sat with me in the dark, after the divorce, listening to mom breathe and sigh.
Caitlin Barasch is currently a sophomore at Colorado College, studying in the shadow of Pikes Peak. Her most recent work can be found in Thought Catalog and Leodegraunce Flash Fiction. When she's not writing, reading, attempting a hike, or riding horses, you can probably find her eating Peanut Butter Cup ice cream straight from the carton.
Michael C. Keith
Dig it! There’s Kerouac tapping out his jazz while Ginsburg howls for love in the next room and Cassady dances his chemical rhumba on the sidewalk. Here comes Burroughs sniffing out a morphine lunch and Corso with his vestal lady scatting for Ferlinghetti in his city of lights. Yeah, man!