Walk by Richard Aitson

Walk (for Downing)
by Richard Aitson
What love I will occur
for the shoes my feet have forsaken
And will the feet listen
for the whispers
straying
I believe I am walking
quietly
to you
And yet the stone’s dusty children
arise,
angry

Sure, You Can Ask Me a Personal Question Diane Burns

American Indian Poetry
Sure, You Can Ask Me a Personal Question
Diane Burns

How do you do?
No, I am not Chinese.
No, not Spanish.
No, I am American Indian, Native American.
No, not from India.
No, not Apache
No, not Navajo.
No, not Sioux.
No, we are not extinct.
Yes, Indian.

THE WORM IN THE APPLE By John Cheever

Page 1 (Introduction to Literature)

THE WORM IN THE APPLE By John Cheever
The Crutchmans were so very, very happy and so temperate in all their habits and so pleased with everything that came their way that one was bound to suspect a worm in their rosy apple and that the extraordinary rosiness of the fruit was only meant to conceal the gravity and the depth of the infection. Their house, for instance, on Hill Street with all those big glass windows. Who but someone suffering from a guilt complex would want so much light to pour into their rooms? And all the wall-to-wall carpeting as if an inch of bare floor (there was none) would touch on some deep memory of unrequition and loneliness. And there was a certain necrophilic ardor to their gardering. Why be so intense about digging holes and planting seeds and watching them come up? Why this morbid concern with the earth?
She was a pretty woman with that striking pallor you so often find in maniacs. Larry was a big man who used to garden without a shirt, which may have shown a tendency to infantile exhibitionism.

A Haircut by : I. S. Nakata

Page 1 (Introduction to Literature)
A Haircut by : I. S. Nakata
People have trouble deciding what I am. Indians mistake me for one of their own; in Chinatown they gave me a menu written in Chinese; and once even a Japanese kid asked me if I was Korean. My ancestors are full-blooded Japanese, but I have had to get used to people thinking I’m something else.

Like that time I went to the barber college on North Clark Street for my cut-rate haircut. It’s a place where student-barbers get on-the-job training, and that’s where I met this guy. He was last in line, and he kept staring at me as I walked in. I just stared back.

The Spell by Arthur Gordon

Page 1 (Introduction to Literature)
The Spell by Arthur Gordon

Excuse me, sir, I see that you are smoking – could you possibly spare a cigarette? We are not allowed to have them here. A wise rule, no doubt, in the majority of cases. Lunatics should never be trusted with fire.

But believe me, sir, I don’t belong in this place with all these crazy people. Really, I don’t! I’m as sane as anyone, as sane as you are. But there you sit in your parked car, free to come and go as you please. And here am I behind these bars…