Things by Eric Toupin http://erictoupin.com Something bitter climbed into me when I woke up, I'm not sure why. I walk slowly, pushing one foot in front of the next. The wind blows at me with an air of anxiety, bustling with yellow, brown, and g... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/a_car_wreck "Gagging, sneezing, and tickling." He says, counting out the three dangers on his gnarled hands. His hands are shaky and his demeanor is fidgety. His words whistle out from where his front teeth used ... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/a_street_performer Someone once told me that a bonsai tree starts out at a regular tree size; over time it's re-potted in smaller and smaller containers, forced to writhe and wriggle and wither into a twisted little twi... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/bonsai_trees One part persons, four parts machines, seventeen parts brick mortar and steel. A dash of feral critters. A touch of smart devices. Garnish with wires and radio waves. My city creature is a str... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/thanksgiving_day My gloves ended at the second knuckle, and my fingers were cold; I shoved them into my jacket pockets. Me and Helen were walking through an alleyway all lined with dumpsters and telephone poles. ... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/a_walk Some days drag at your heels like a dog that won't go home. Go on, get out of here. You turn your back on it for seconds, minutes, then hours. But when you turn around it is still there, sheepish. Get... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/winter_reflection The rocky earth trembles beneath me as I lay on my side, the night black and roaring around me. A blanket of foggy clouds shroud out the stars. A red flash illuminates my companions faces for a breath... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/her_many_faces "Ah I cant do t'day. T'morrow." The man at the laundromat is short with a broad face and broad features. His black hair is shiny and thinning, just barely. I set my laundry bag down on the flo... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/laundry_day Things have to change if they're going to work out between us. This is an intervention. I wait for him to get home, sitting on my bed. When I hear his keys in the door, I become nervous. I walk to the... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/intervention He used to call his parents from there. Not often, just the bare minimum. Sometimes not for six weeks. It was hard to talk and he strained to sound like himself. They would ask how he was, and he woul... http://erictoupin.com/blog/all/the_beginning_of_the_end