Issue #54

Spring 2015 | May 1, 2015

In this Issue:

Getting Ready to Go by JP Briggs

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In the late afternoon, we stopped at the old hotel perched near the road that ran through a desert of pink dunes. The hotel leaned at an odd angle, a whimsical collection of turrets, bay windows, verandahs and ramshackle additions. We approached the heavy wooden counter of the reception desk and rang the bell. Behind it, in the shadows, stood rows of empty mailboxes. A numbered brass skeleton key dangled from a hook beneath each. The place looked completely deserted. I rang the bell a couple of times but nobody came. I hooked my hand inside my husband's arm and suggested we explore. Read more...

Afterimages by Sabrina Starnaman

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Gated Community
Location FKA Suburbia, U.S.A.

He comes across the broken doll while he is eating the parking lot. Crunch, crunch, crunch. There she lies. Face up, one eye staring at the empty black sky. The other is just an empty socket, dark as night. Behind him lays a trail of wreckage. Hunks of blacktop are thrown back along a scored dirt skin. It looks as though someone has been raking sharp fingernails across a smooth expanse of flesh, tearing smooth epidermis to leave bleeding furrows. Read more...

The Real Atlas by Trevor Shikaze

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In the hinge of the world lives the real Atlas. He carries nothing on his shoulders; he's just there. Yet he is the joint that secures the hinge, and were he to leave his post, the world would slip, subduct, and collapse. So he stays, even though he'd rather not. Read more...

The Neighbor and The Swing
by Agustín Cadena

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The Neighbor
A girl about eleven years old lives on the fourth floor of an antiquated building facing our apartment. I suppose she has a family, but I have only seen the girl. Her dormer window is exactly opposite our living room window. Often, when it's getting dark and lights are coming on, I have observed her. She's blond and always wears a vintage white nightgown. Read more...

This Neil Armstrong Is Not Dead
by David Stevens

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Armstrong in bed
Armstrong looked at her lying beside him, asleep. She was grainy in the moonlight, a black and white photograph magnified a thousand times for forensic examination, revealing a pyramid on Mars, a face on the moon. Read more...

The Poet's Resistance
by Jason Walker

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The man with soggy eyes waited outside my front door as I retyped the first line of what I hoped would be the next great American poem: This is the poem for all unhealthy youths…. But once I sensed the man's presence outside the door again, I went blank. So I brewed tea and ate a devil cake, watching people ridicule each other on television. Then I glanced through the peephole. Another line arrived: hand your handfuls of devil cakes back to the devil. "Here's our next great American poem," I said aloud. Read more...

About Our Coffee and Other Fare

Please Note: All of the coffee served at The Irreal Cafe is fair trade, organic, shade-grown and not real. All of the food served at The Irreal Cafe is organic, vegan, locally sourced and not real. See "At Our Cafe" for more about what we would serve at The Irreal Cafe and how we would serve it if there were an Irreal Cafe.