1.The tree in the front yard is dead and stillhas the audacity to blushgreenly. No one’s told the limbstheir horoscope yet, andI won’t be the messenger.I just sweep the leaves from the sidewalk and no one’s the wiser.
2.My grandfather still knows my name. I’ll tryto forgive him when he doesn’t. I know that from now on, everyshared memory is a moving sale tremblingunder an erratic price gun. Knowthat everything must go.
3.In good company (or this company),I know to tuck my tonguebehind my teeth. There’s a difference between my favorite tieand the one that sells the car.I can sell a bad car well. But does it matternow what makes it off the lot ?
4.Every phone call wipes more of his slate clean. I don’t mindretelling stories if he keeps asking questions.
5.every phone call wipes more of our slate clean I don’t mind retelling stories if he keeps asking questions
6.I’m learning to love the bridgethat can’t be built.To love the tree that clutchesonto its warmth.Even now, I can pile togetherthe leaves I’m given