We’d ride uphill past the tavern in Poppy’s ancient Cadillac. I pictured a tuxedo-clad Ricky Ricardo crooning love songs to Lucy, twirling on the dance floor, backed up by a big band. I’d wave to the hollow-eyed scratching junkies slouched against the wall. They’d wave back, baffled by the attention.
Sara Jacobelli lives in New Orleans where she works in a public library and teaches writing workshops. Her flash fiction, flash nonfiction, and short stories have been published in various places, including the New York Times Metropolitan Diary.
Eviction notice; drive-in nights.
Swings and slides til the sky darkened, the movie started.
Feet crunching gravel to Poppy’s ancient Cadillac, a grand ship sailing the seven seas.
Joanie in pajamas, gulping hot dog and Coke, asked, “Is this our home now?”
Pillows, blankets, brothers, laundry, in the back seat.
Sara Jacobelli lives in New Orleans where she tries to avoid vampires, tourists, and Bourbon Street.
“I thought you said you wanted a kid.” Brandon plopped the chubby little brown-eyed toddler into her lap.
“Yeah, but…” Marie looked nervous. She ran her fingers through the boy’s curly brown hair.
Marie lowered her voice to a whisper. “I didn’t know you were gonna steal one.”
Sara Jacobelli lives in New Orleans, where she tries to avoid vampires, Bourbon Street and tourists.