When I look at you, I don’t know what’s happening. We met once before. We met twice before. I was your mother when the Joss smell perfumed the funeral parlor on the second floor. That was the first. I can’t speak. I feel too much. When I say that I tap deep, deep into the well that runs straight down my veins. The uttered word, just -eel, electric, taps those wells. A true deepwater horizon.
And then there was you. We met in the ward. I introduced my cousin, A, when we were just kids, to that life, the bathroom mirrors you’d known so long.
Two weeks, […]