Issue #67

Summer 2018 | August 2018

In this Issue:

Four Stories by Jeff Friedman



Siri orders me to turn left so I turn left onto Sisskind Street and am driving through a gang war. As stray bullets knock out my back windows and ricochet off the car, I swerve to avoid a police tank coming at me. "Bad decision," I shout at Siri. "Quickest route," she replies. Read more...

Ash by Michael Chester


As usual, I have strayed from the riders of the bicycle club and I'm somewhere in the city, where an old guy in a preacher's collar, a black suit, and a flat straw hat is hating a book. "I hate this book," he says.

"It should not be allowed to exist," says the old gal next to him on the bus bench.

I've stopped to rest. I have leaned my bike up against a wall while I take a drink of water.

"Perhaps I should destroy it," he says uncertainly.

a balloon by drew bevis


You begin as a balloon blown up to a fair and healthy size by a young woman with still wet lipstick. The stain remains at your knot. The air inside of you is warm and full of milky oxygen. You get bopped around from here to there, but it does not hurt and you do not feel the shifts too hard on account of air resistance and your elastic. A string is tied to your end and you are happy to be pulled. On the way, you pull things in yourself. Read more...

Three Stories by Tamara K. Walker


Minus Myth

In the very beginning, there was an indefatigable cornucopia of erasers resting upon a glossy black tabletop. They were highly diversified: pink and white and brown, crumbly and spongy and every texture in between, cubic, prismatic, cylindrical and pyramidal. Read more...

Lover's Art by Ken Poyner


I have watched her now for many long-studded weeks. I think she knows.

I lurk about the edges of the vast field in which she trades. I watch her work the crisscross of lines, comfortable in the slack line between poles, reaching up to the full length of her body where the lines are anchored, drawing herself sometimes on toes: arm creeping longer than I think it will go, her clothes surging up with her, and a slim country of ankle showing quizzically between the hem of her skirt and the roughness of her shoes. 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.