I bit my tongue until it bled.
We went miniature golfing again,
then walked Broadmoor discussing
eye-for-eye retribution and the
senselessness of media-frenzied infidelity.
I sat thinking for a long time the day
after Thanksgiving.
The flag was brilliant.
Spools of clouds
disappeared.
And then, sleeping separately,
a spectacular light storm at the 3:00 a.m. hour.
