“Summer 2021” © Bonnie Matthews Brock


Harvey’s candles

In fanatically religious tones, breathing out fire-less flames of false fellowship, Harvey telling me about the dimple in the middle of his forehead, that it was of no use to him, nothing like third-eye foresight or anything like that, he never managed to develop a clear sight of what was coming

Then he began eating the birthday candles right off the cake, right after they were lit, his five year old god son crying and its parents asking Harvey and me to leave, manners, they had manners

Harvey laughing like Jack Nicholson, I took his arm and we left Harvey still chomping, I’d managed to holster a bottle of Jim Beam so we sloshed about all the way to the train station, coming onto dusk
That’s when it happened

Harvey grabbed the bottle of bourbon, which angered me, and ran off into the path of a speeding stretch-limo, bottle and Harvey cracked up
I pretended I didn’t know Harvey
When the first responders showed up
Caught the next train
Heading for another Harvey, another birthday


Keith Nunes is a writer, a human, a sober alcoholic, a step-father, a husband, an erratic vegetarian, a user of medication to stay sane, and a breather of air!

Bonnie Matthews Brock is a Florida-based photographer, as well as a school psychologist. Her images have been published in Ibbetson Street, The Somerville Times, Oddball Magazine, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, and Wild Roof Journal. Her work is archived at Harvard University, the University of Buffalo, and Poets House in NYC. Bonnie loves to capture, in images, a very wide range of subjects, and to learn and experiment with shooting and editing techniques.