lots of blonds, a banana when it is first peeled and

There was that little guy in her throat, the one that hurt when she wanted to cry.

Each minute took all its time.

her handbag that always had gum and Band-Aids and tissues in it.

then at intervals after, as the air rusts it brown.

When that grew tiresome they let the outside in to mingle with their feet.

She knew how to be surrounded by people and not meet anybody’s eye.

A street vendor barked “Umbrella Umbrella Umbrella

Folds in the mostly made beds sank deeper into themselves. Stains stayed stains, in the hampers and dresser drawers. In the kitchen, a milk-clouded spoon fixed to its bowl and magnets drifted down the refrigerator.