Hip Pocket

You mentioned this publisher, Hippocketpress, and it reminds me of an experience I had.  There used to be pocketbooks, what maybe then were called paperbacks, and they sort of fit in a pocket.

Some years back I was walking down the street in Long Beach, CA.  I think it was even Long Beach Blvd.  And there is a woman walking in front of me wearing some short cut off jeans.  Pretty nice.  You might say, to tie it to this website theme, a heavenly body, but you might decide not to say that, in the interest of avoiding cliche, anon anon.

So in the hip pocket of those cut off jeans, she has a pocketbook, even a hippocketbook.  Yes, World’s Greatest Short Short Stories.

That is my favorite short short story.  Might have been a longer story, but in those days, as ever, I don’t talk to women.

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1 Response to Hip Pocket

  1. Mike says:

    Nicely done, tying your story to our theme here. When I read your second sentence, I read “pickpockets” instead of “pocketbooks”; which prompted me to wonder: What is reading really, except a kind of anticipation, a kind of expectation, which leads (always) to a series of corrected errors, big and small. (I’m trying to be ultra deep here, tying my comment to the current background theme here: the Hubble Ultra Deep Field photo).

    I heard from the HipPocketPress Canary editor yesterday: she published another of my poems, “Termites” in the just up Spring 2011 edition. I have a fan.

    Still raining here. Will it ever stop?

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