Spring 2019 volume 1
My short piece, “Clay Horse Ashtray,” was selected to be part of the first release of the hand-stitched, limited copies, 180 worded pieces.
Clay Horse Ashtray
I love my room of four years, its flea market vogue. Vonnegut would be proud. A cockroach crawls up my desk as Beethoven’s Moonlight crescendos. Next to the desk, bamboo crates from the corner bodega holds my overdue textbooks, my NYU acceptance letter. The roach hits my clay horse ashtray choked with half-smoked Marlboros, wisely turns around. I stick a finger in the pages to hold my place in Vonnegut as the roach scurries over my exams, all A’s. I wish for nothing but my smokes, and, on special occasions, fresh water from one of those bottles that says its pure, two bucks a piece! Almost as much as I payed for my dying DVD player. Masters of Fine Arts: I try it on in the mirror. Moonlight Sonata ends. This summer, my framed NYU acceptance will hang at the entrance of my family’s diner, for all to see, before I come to their tables to take their orders. Pat Morin
