Latte Archives

Spring 2015 Issue

Apple By Amy Glynn

First Prize, 2014 Literal Latte Essay Award.
In the beginning was the word and the word was… no. Wait. Before a word there is indrawn breath, inspiration, the original pregnant pause. Godhead, aleph, ein sof, unsounded sound….

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My Own Personal Mr. Crabtree By Garry Takle

There are usually a few days during every English summer when the jet stream brings settled high pressure and the prospect of wind and rain recedes for a time to the continent. This day was one of those. It was the middle of the summer holidays and doldrums were approaching,…

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Detours By Sue Repko

That night I’m meeting some women writer friends in the city, and I need to find Panchito’s Mexican Restaurant. I know it’s at 105 MacDougal Street, but I don’t know what subway to take. I scan what Google gives me, and my eye is drawn to a New York Times headline: LIVES AFTER 7-STORY FALL. Apparently, some guy tried to commit suicide at 105 MacDougal back when it was a tenement….

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David the Green Dragon Goes to the Opera By Tamie Parker Song

Second Prize, 2014 Literal Latte Essay Award.
I was meeting three times a week, sometimes more, with a man. In between our meetings I waited to see him again. I drove through the traffic of Berkeley, meandered through Berkeley’s utopian grocery stores, every activity I did, really, just a disguise for waiting….

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Fall 2014 Issue

A Certain Sound in the Oasis By Stacie P. Leone

Lying belly down on the floor, I slid almost completely under the bed to reach my suitcase. Our bedroom loft was the driest place in the house, still, green velvety mildew had sprouted all over the bag since I returned from Leyla’s house on the Aegean the week before. Matt’s canvas duffle somehow resisted mold, but I didn’t want to ask to borrow it. We lived in Istanbul, in a one-room house on a hill where the Bosporus merges with the Black Sea….

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Spring 2014 Issue

Juanita and the Beach of Fairies By Jean Guerrero

First Prize, 2013 Literal Latte Essay Award.
On April 23, 2011, during what is known in Mexico as Semana Santa — or “Holy Week” — I went swimming off of the coast of an abandoned beach at the edge of the northernmost jungle in the Americas, Los Tuxtlas, and a rip current sucked me out to sea.

Four other foreigners and I were the only people on the beach; we were a 20-minute hike from our rental vehicle and about an hour from the nearest town of Catemaco, a small lakeside pueblo known primarily for its shamans….

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Wood Swivel Chairs By J. L. Cooper

Second Prize, 2013 Literal Latte Essay Award.
In 1959 I was a nine-year-old freckled blond kid wearing a Red Sox little league hat just to the left of center, hungry for swings at wild pitches and the chase of impossible fly balls. On Saturdays after games, my father brought me to the newsroom where he worked as city desk editor for a small paper struggling to remain a daily….

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Oddballs and Angels: A Tribute to Phoebe Snow By Glenn Berger

Third Prize, 2013 Literal Latte Essay Award.
In April of 2011, at the age of 60, singer/songwriter Phoebe Snow died. When I heard the news, I walked into my hallway, and stared at the gold record of her album, Second Childhood, which hung on my wall. I floated back to when I first met Phoebe. In 1973, I had just become an assistant recording engineer at A & R Studios in New York….

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Fall 2013 Issue

Seeing The Inca Trail By JLSchneider

I’m watching Inca and pre-Inca walls that have been standing for a thousand years get torn apart in a day. They were built carefully, with a purpose, by hands whose descendants now carry our water, chop our wood, and backfill our sites when we leave. They were homes and courtyards and places of worship. And we’re joking and tearing everything apart like clowns….

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Winter 2013 Issue

Luffing By Mary Heather Noble

Second Prize, 2012 Literal Latte Essay Award.
When I think about my father, the picture that always comes to mind is him standing on the shore of Lake Erie against the distant Cleveland skyline. He watches the wind socks on the pier waving in the breeze, their streamers a rainbow contrast against the blurry city beyond. I imagine in his mind a single perpetual question: Is it going to be a good day for a sail?

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