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Lee Upton


The Snowflake Motel

Summer 1985 | Poetry

Always the managers glared at everyone strangely. Yes, there were two managers with nothing to do but tell women their faces looked best in a motel lobby. Young and damp I was alone with their bulldog in their special parlor. Blue glass on the table, [...]

The Net

Caught in the net and one of those who had gathered said, Please let me, I'd exchange places to be with her, the old man with the bad leg wanting it public, that if we couldn't be destroyed we could at least be held by contempt. No one at all would s [...]