Can we talk, at least, before I go?

CENTRAL PARK BY ETKIN CAMOGLU 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 30

“Can we talk, at least, before I go?” you say but I don’t, won’t answer. You can talk to yourself all you want when you get back to Brooklyn. I don’t care. Hell, you have two hands and an imagination plus the internet connection you steal from your landlord two floors down. Cheap motherfucker. You can do all the talking you want till you jerk yourself dead. “I love you,” you say.

Finally, I got it: 3-D Augmented Reality meant sock puppets.

AUGMENTED REALITY BY SUZANNE LAGRANDE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 30

I went back to my desk and reread The Memo. At the very bottom in fine print it said: “Everyone at PL&M is required to make a hand puppet and have it on their person, at all times.” Even the employees in maintenance who, as far as anyone could tell, didn’t have speaking roles in the company.

This has been some park tour. Seems like we’ve seen about every park in the city.

PARK LIFE BY ERIC DEPRIESTER 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 30

Not even close. This town has a great park life. Almost feels like that Cheever story, but instead of swimming through pools, we’re skipping across parks.

They could be themselves with each other.

LOIS BY CORA CRUZ 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 30

Oh, I had been in love. Even if unrequitedly. Love, as I imagined it, went far beyond the clinical technicalities of sex or the games of manipulation. The mundane details of the world disappeared when one person, and one person alone, could center both your sensuality and your sense of meaning, purpose, and beauty, blending them together. It made anything seem possible, anything seem tolerable, and all worthwhile.

FAST FRIENDS BY BILL SCHILLACI 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 30

Fleet Haberstroh was wrapping a tuna salad on rye in wax paper when he happened to gaze up and through the front window of his father’s delicatessen to see Moira Darveau standing on the opposite side of Franklin Turnpike looking for a break in the traffic. His first thought, of course, was to hide.