But just as I got to the top of the stairs, I looked and she was on the sofa kissing a man. It was summer. The door was open.
The TV was going.
That 's one of the things I've seen.
If we wanted the news, we had to sit around the screen and listen.
My dad died in his sleep, drunk, eight years ago.
My mom was there at the same table. She was trying to write a letter to her sister in Little Rock.
He had a moustache and always wore a button-up sweater.
I left my mother with the man on her sofa and drove around for a while.
No comments:
Post a Comment