Justin Jones Posts

Through These Eyes: Where the Wind Blows

I’m lying under my grandmother’s clothesline, watching the bed sheets overhead billow in the wind. Wafts of Downy fabric softener and Gain laundry detergent mix with scents of lilacs and dogwoods planted nearby. The linens […]

Through These Eyes: Bedroom Eyes

In what was perhaps the best pick-up line I’ve heard in the past six months (coincidentally, the only pick-up line I’ve heard in the past six months), a man at a bar, after regaling me […]

Through These Eyes: Cutter

My room doesn’t have the effects of boys’ rooms my age. There are no posters of pretty girls, no baseball gloves or trophies, no dirty clothes strewn out on the floor. Although, I do have […]

Through These Eyes: Roommate

An empty lecture hall in the middle of the night. I’m on my back; he’s on top of me. Kissing hard. Loving rough. I’m wrapped around him, running my fingers through his hair. Until my […]

Through These Eyes: Gen Hyper-Selfie

Coca-Cola was an everyday thing and we ate McDonald’s twice a week. We hadn’t heard of gluten and didn’t eat organic; we weren’t green; we weren’t medicated. We fought child-killer Freddy Krueger in video games […]

Through These Eyes: Everyone Inside

Among stuffed animals and bruised toys, near a wall covered by an “Old McDonald” mural, over a giant rug depicting a small town, I sit in a bright green chair. Even at seven years old, […]

Through These Eyes: Salting Wounds into Demons

No one could see him but me. I was six years old when he chased me. The goblin was a tall, disgusting, angry thing: taller than my father, more pungent than a sock, with gnarly […]

Through These Eyes: Cheshire Boy

The Gorgeous Boy has picture-perfect teeth and he picture-perfect smiles. His cheeks rise, his eyes scrunch. His laugh is charming and wonderful; his skin is tan and taut; his hair is full and soft. He’s […]

Through These Eyes: Sundays After Church

Uncle Bobby, Uncle Johnny, and my father are sitting in my grandparents’ living room watching NASCAR. I don’t understand the appeal of boringly designed cars — however colorful, however fast — looping around a track […]

Through These Eyes: Daddy Issues

Midsummer’s night, 2004. I’m 18. This will be my last year in Fort Lauderdale. I’m with friends at the home of a man we know only as Mr. Gene. It’s “one” of his homes, so […]

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