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Recent project I did with Kara Janssan Kovacev at Used Furniture Review. This is the second project we’ve done together and we plan on doing more.

Our last stop was the girl who lived behind the stack of old tires–her house an afterthought built in a pile of rubbish. She’d drag her feet through the dirt; climb the bus steps as if wading through slush. Kinky brown hair–a Brillo pad sewn on her head, skin the color of sour milk, men’s thick-soled loafers for shoes.

She never spoke, just sat there, staring straight ahead, watching the cold road. Her sister, a kid with drowsy lids and no eyelashes, got run over by their father. Drunk one night, barreling down the driveway, foot heavy on the pedal, sticky head on the back of his bucket seat.

He’d wait for the bus most afternoons, slipshod on his rusted glider, sleeves rolled up, pocked checks, slim feet bared to the sun.

The brothers from Coal Road sat behind her–a whole brood, ranging in color and size; one was squat, one tall, the other an ugly sexy beast of a boy, all slick and prickly. The boy with the perfect feathered hair, curled round, his lips all muscle and hustle.