About the Author

Column Archive

55 Words
7.22.2003 by Rosemary, every Tuesday.

???ries are exactly 55 words long. Why? Ah... because. Some make more sense than others. They're fun to write, try it yourself! Better yet, try it and send them my way. Hope you enjoy them.

The last time she saw him was while biking on a breezy Sunday afternoon.

“What are you doing?” she asked, slowing.

He pointed to the sack he was holding. Embarrassed: “Going to feed the ducks.”

“Stupid eh?” he continued, but her eyes kissed his broad shoulders, her lungs aching with the need to nestle in.


They hunched on the broad dock, holding rapidly cooling plates close to groggy faces, scraping mouthward small dobs of scrambled egg. Dawn light came across the lake, slowly building force, chasing cold morning breezes that shivered the black water.

“We did it,” she commented. “Stayed up all night.”

“I still don’t feel enlightened,” he said.


“Dear neighbor,”

He paused, pressed the end of the pencil to his lips. The detestable trumpeting carried on in the background, each tuneless bellow a slap to his ears.

Excitedly he flicked his eyes towards the freshly purchased AK47 at his side.

He wrote, “I regret to inform you of the passing of your elephant...”


There once was a man named Malcolm who fell in love at first sight -- before the lady spoke a word. Her name was Olivia. They dated; Malcolm loved her strong as sunlight. One day, however, they had a fight. It seemed Olivia appreciated Kandinsky but in Malcolm's mind she was more of a Renoir girl.


Immersed in the space delineated by his head lowered over the desk: a small boy defining his own world.

Red pastel. The boy concentrates, presses it to the paper, hears the scrape. Exhales sharply.

A little spiral. Bright, bloody, shuddering with life. The chief export of his world.

“That’s it?” she says, and coughs messily.

Disclaimer | Email Us | Dance!
Text, images, design, and our groovy mojo are ©
return to the top of the page