how little brain she uses anymore. Dispenser
of pills, prescription filler's about all it takes.
She and her school are like George and the war:
good nightmares. She says they used to make

the pills from scratch. No gadgets. Where's scratch
come from anyway? About all I know
is that dog scratched a lot. Fleas in the crotch.
Had heartworms, right? I think that last snow

she almost lost him. Thank God for pills: slip them
down in old hamburger. But Dad's still teaching,
Mom's still teaching Dad that Mediterranean
food. Says she'll have to heep on trying

The Budget Press Review features
three new pieces by Chris Katko.

Here's a peek at the centerfold
by Chris Katko.

Excerpts from Quarters by Chad Davidson

scoop me out of the muck and hold me,
or kneel down next to me, like mother
when I floundered in the tub,

unwilling, afraid the water lost
it's power to clean, that my mother
couldn't seperate me from his stains.