Take that pampas grass we offered in honor of the Empress and take the Empress too. I prefer the tower struck by lightning. What shall we do with your father, pounding the door while we make love on the carpet? Thus the convoy of grocery carts filled with our belongings at midnight when he would no longer pay the rent. Here is a list of things I wish I had not given to the Salvation Army: my black leather jacket with zippers on the sleeves. The silver ring embossed with crescent moons. My orange, yellow, green, blue, red, and silver disco shirt. Take the ghosts with you. Or at least, tell them to quit standing around my bed like skeleton surgeons over a comatose patient. Why did you carry those orange peels from apartment to apartment? I’ll go wait for you in the park at that open field. It was there that I last saw my Australian boomerang diminish.