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Robert

Roman

Empire

RED BRICK ALLEY STORIES

The Killards Are Coming

Every damn day in Religion Class, Sister Anna Banana yapped about the Soviets revving up to start a nuclear war with the new president, Ronald Reagan. She said after the cities burned to Holy Hell, there’d be something called “nuclear winter” that would kill all... 

Double-Strength Demon Dogs

Fantastic Freddie was the only altar boy from the Red Brick Alley. He was always consecrating Ritz Crackers and trying to make us eat them like communion wafers. He light-fingered incense from the sacristy, and he blessed water from Old Lady Tully’s spigot...

Laser Loop

I couldn’t see over the tall green school bus seat except when we hit a pothole and I bounced up in the air like a Pop-Tart jumping out of a toaster. Nobody at Saint Augie’s could believe I was allowed to go. My first school picnic ever. I was good from the day I handed in my pink...

The Boy Wonder

How the Hell did Jaggerbush get himself up there? He was clawing his way up into the open window above the Science class door like a real-life gargoyle. The blockhead of a wooden mallet stuck out of the back of his Toughskins where his butt crack was. He wore three...

About The Author

Rob.jpg

Robert Roman grew up in Pittsburgh, PA, where he sold newspapers to cars from a concrete island. Read more→

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Robert Roman
Feb 14

My Own Private Ulysses: The Scaredy Cat Strut



When I consider all that’s been written               

About James Joyce’s most curious work,                

And how like yarn, it toys with this kitten,          

So all other duties, I’m quick to shirk.              

When I conceive of running with that herd,            

Boosting its battle cry with my meow.                  

I know I deceive myself. How absurd                   

To think my mewing might deserve a wow.               

When these mightier pens clash, this stray cat        

Will slink down the alley, dodging the war.           

I’m a conscientious erector that                      

Burgles, copies, and jams in metaphor.

This meow could have been a bark with ease,      

I don’t even like cats, they make me sneeze.



Stay tuned for more stray sonnets.

Same kitty time, same catty channel.

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