afternoon: rain. amok. and voices that say, "where is my crock pot? larry, did you do something with my crock pot?"

older sister comes home and we dance by the silver speakers speaking dreamy theodore debussy in the rain. and we are an old couple and she says "wait, spin now" and i spin and knock cups of water-color water off the kitchen table and it thunders from out the glass walls and the trees move in slow motion, and broad leaves splatter the windows.

when she opens the door to leave, the television glowing in another room leaks through. its voice says, america, here's your president, and there is thunderous applause as she exits stage left.























































































'maybe it is good to have secrets from the kids































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