Close to the End
June 3, 2013
I was in a shell boat, in one transient wave of ooze; the ooze of spinal fluids, hands, feet and fingers of my brothers and sisters and their brothers and sisters. I had a slotted spoon for an oar, a lifejacket and my ship, my Nina, Pinta, or Santa Maria dumped me in the pool, the pool of my family. I front-floated to shore, o the end of my driveway, my family home on garbage night and I cried for the mothers and fathers of my brothers and sisters who floated in the street, no one to write a eulogy but me.