Larry cuts stone in a cloud of hummingbirds. It is hot. He is patient. The birds are hungry. They zoom around him like animate
Rita and I are Mystery Sisters, buoyant on the porch, taking turns being Little Elk, make-believing we’re savvy. Our game, equal parts Saturday Westerns
I was a kid when we hit Mile-High suburbs, carcasses of Winnebagos strung out behind us on the plains, the mile-long gas lines coming
