Tag: Dale Boyer

A Sunday in the Early Fall by Dale Boyer

You walk the streets among the gathering debris, the detritus of summer underfoot. It crackles brittlely with every step. The neighbors in the house next door are readying for fall: the blue steps leading down into their drained white swimming pool. Their daughter Emily… Continue Reading “A Sunday in the Early Fall by Dale Boyer”

Monologue Inside a Bar by Dale Boyer

I’m too much in my head. Tonight, for instance, I was standing talking to a man: good looking, waspy-thin, a baseball player type with blond hair, wire rims. Told me that he was going off to Yale divinity, and that intrigued me — that… Continue Reading “Monologue Inside a Bar by Dale Boyer”

The Man in Walgreen’s by Dale Boyer

Standing there as gorgeous as a man can be, the man I’d seen so many mornings on the train dressed up in business suits and starched white shirts now wearing crumpled tennis shorts, a sweaty Harvard t-shirt, stopping off to buy a few last-minute… Continue Reading “The Man in Walgreen’s by Dale Boyer”