YR Online

from The Piranhas: The Boy Bosses of Naples

translated by Antony Shugaar

The Paranza Comes from the Sea

The word paranza comes from the sea.

How easy to simply lift the baby into her crib, to hand her a cup. To watch her pull long sips of milk—cow’s milk—from the spout.

            I work out every week with a young man named Jason. He is passionately agnostic, the sort of person who calls up the guy on the religious billboards outside of New Haven .  .  .

Today I boarded a plane. Where does one body end and the next begin?

A shock, that this land, the body to which my life is bound, ends in water.

Mary Barnett

                According to my mother, her oldest sister Hope was a beauty and a tyrant. By the time I met her, however, she was an “old maid” of about forty  .  .  .

Today I am thinking about the mind’s relationship to memory, and how my daughter is old enough now that there are things she does not remember about her life.

Mary Barnett

            It’s been a busy, if ordinary, week. Husband: work. Daughter: camp. Neighbors: fence. Cat: vet. Hot water heater: dead. I’ve withdrawn from the news lately.

Zermatt lies at the end of a narrow valley, near the base of the Matterhorn, and life in the village unfolds in the mountain’s majestic presence. Throughout a day, if it is not completely obscured by clouds .  .  .

Mary Barnett

            He was a good brother, not that he ever gave her any advice or protected her in a fight or introduced her to one of his friends or even talked to her in front of his friends or took her to a ball game .  .  .

Harold Schechter

from Harold Schechter’s Murderabilia

At around nine A.M. on Saturday, September 18, 1841, a thirty-four-year-old carter named Richard Barstow was driving his wagon down lower Manhattan. It was a raw, drizzly morning.