PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

i cross intersections kitty-corner. Otherwise, you’ve got to cross two streets, waiting for the walk signs, so forth. plus this way there is always a green light (and a red one too but I choose the green one). there are intersections in boston, like by beth isreal, where the lights are set for kitty-corner crossing, but this is rare in the usa.

one day on the way to work I passed a beautiful red-haired woman crossing the other way. we nodded. the next day I said “kitty-corner.” she said “katty-corner.” that’s as far as we have gotten in our relationship.

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the round gift


i grew up in rural utah near the goosenecks of the san juan, ninety years ago. my family was self-sufficient except for trips to the reservation general store.

my most anticipated present on christmas morning every year was the orange i would find in my stocking. so delicious. but one year the orange was larger than usual, and yellow.

mom explained it was a grapefruit. she cut it in half and sprinkled powdered sugar on it. i carved all the little segments free with a paring knife and ate them with a spoon.

sister to the orange, just as magical.

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my plans

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

i have spent too much time gazing out my window. i must go outside.

i’ll walk through the field behind the house, the one i’m always looking at, all the way to the woods. a path in the woods leads to the river where a rowboat is tied up to a sycamore tree at water’s edge. the rowboat will have an oar in it, maybe two. i’ll paddle down the river to our town and past it all the way to the city. in the city i’ll go to the airport and fly to the other side of the world.

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I just went to the country for the first time.

We left the city and drove a long ways and parked in the woods.

We got out and Dad and Mom led us down a path marked Nature Trail.

There is a tree outside our house in the city, by the sidewalk. Here it was all trees. No houses.

We walked a long way and saw birds and a pond with ducks and had a picnic.

I wasn’t sure what all I saw. Later I needed books to explain it to me.

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our home


honey, i’m home.

don’t forget to take off your shoes.

it’s a mile to the bedroom. my slippers are worn out.

i just had the floors refinished. go about in your socks if you please.

fine. how was your day?

i’ve had work started on the new rooms.

my lord. it’s like the winchester mystery house.

not in the least. every room has a purpose. all part of the plan. did you see my new sculpture by the water?

the stack of rocks?

yes. i call it the holy trinity and my soul.

yes… did the fellow come to clear out the water snakes?

no, i forgot about that. just too busy.

i thought our visitors might feel more secure in any aquatic activities without the need to be vigilant for poisonous reptiles.

our visitors?

the refugess. one hundred of them. i’ve invited them to stay. remind the cook please.

but my floors…

not to worry. they’re quite shoeless.


Photo by Sandra Crook
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple





people say to me, whaddya want to be a boxer for? you could break your nose. you could get your face marked up.

look at this face. you think i’m worried about that?

it’s a dying sport, they say.

here’s the thing about that. you want to be the best at something? pick a sport where the competition is not so much.

then they say, it’s a man’s game.

oh, yeah? then how come i get paid for fighting other women?

truth to tell, though, i don’t mind getting hit. i got hit at home. i got used to it. meantime, i like to hit. it’s not the money, it’s the hitting. it’s like a drug.

the first time my boyfriend raised his hand to me? pow! right on the jaw. he didn’t resent it. he really didn’t resent it, if you know what i mean.

and the other thing, which i already mentioned. it’s a sport.


Photo prompt © J Hardy Carroll
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple




“You’ve got to quit.”

“I can’t quit. We need the money.”

“We need you more than we need the money. You keep getting beat up.”

“I’m paid to get beat up.”

“They couldn’t pay you enough for that. You’re a father .”

“What am I going to do if I don’t fight?”

“What are you going to do when you can’t fight?”

“I used to be able to think. I’ve caught so many to the head, I can’t think anymore. I can’t get another job.”

“Which is harder to get, another job or another family?”


Photo prompt © J Hardy Carroll
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple



most admire the beauty, the bloom, the color

for some, it’s the long elegant stems that go all the way up

a few contrarians and cynics study the thorns

but for me, it’s the hips

i’ll sit and have tea with those hips

i’ll smoke a little hip

hips are hip

i’m able to enjoy hips because they have cured all my diseases

they’ve made my skin smooth and blemish-free

god hid many secrets in hips

instead of a ring or a bouquet, when i proposed

i gave my love a bucket of hips

her hips aren’t too shabby either


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