DEAL
When sleep came, it was like I was dead. Blackbird-black and real quiet.
When I was 4 or 5, I watched my mother carrying me into the hospital.
From above, like the blackbirds floating against blue, heads cocked, I watched.
Fading into and out of the dark.
The sun is barely over Bare Hill. Certain thoughts should not be given this much light.
Summer is over at the speed I’m driving.
This road heads south.
A…
