Sunday

1. A hole in the blanket. Or a dead bird in my bed.
2. Three separate breakfasts. The kitchen smells like bacon again and again.
3. And again.
4. An explanation of the limited lifespans of fruit trees. I carve my name on a low branch.
5. Strangers pray, shift their weight, pray. Some smoke in the parking lot. Others sin indoors.
6. Memories of Russia don't stay pasted to the $2 paper, so I use tape instead. Everything looks appropriately half-assed.
7. Dad finally picks up the phone. I repeat myself until 60 really seems like 60.
8. Shoe store lady says she likes my sundress, but I process the compliment too slowly, and say "Ok."
9. Dinner ends with seven too many cookies. I give up calculating and add grapes as a chaser.
10. Six months since six months ago. I walk inside smiling and Mom says "What?"Sees the phone and says "Oh."