The club house is empty. The desperate voices silent in the jukebox. No clank from a cueball. My parts are on strike. Practicing social distancing, each has decided to stay  home and watch reruns – Leave It To Beaver, Father Knows Best, Road Runner, Gilligan’s Island, Julie Childs, the Galloping Gourmet, Mr. Ed, followed by …

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How is it I was terrified as a child and no one took notice? Mostly likely it was because those in charge of noticing were the monsters under the bed. They were the conundrum. Without them I would die, with them I may die. A child stuck in mid-air, weightless, unattached and discombobulated. What to …

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