Bicycling along,
screaming,
helps.
Makes some of the
pain
go away.
The rest slips
into my feet
as I
steer across
the grass
of Mari’s front yard.
I drop the bike
near the petunias
and go to
knock
but Mari
slings the door wide
and shouts,
What took you so
damn long to
get here?
big and I can
see her molars.
She doesn’t have
even one cavity.
She wears an old
AFI T-shirt
and her hair
is purple today.
I matched it
to the petunias,
Mari says,
when I raise my eyebrows
at her.
Almost,
I say.
Almost that color
exactly.
Come on in here,
Mari says.
the smell of air-conditioning
and flowers,
and step into the
house.