Scallops by Isaac Steinzor
TEAR of SWEAT WORKED its way down
the Highway Patrolman's forehead, across the doughy mounds of flesh that
hugged his eyesockets and along his cheek, until it beaded on the corner of
his upper lip, where he licked it off. He looked like he was made of
rubberized foam, or, if you were hungry, funnelcake. ...READ MORE