Memories are sugar cubes on the tongue, so good / at first taste, but then they dissolve, leaving that / sweet recollection.

In the photo you can’t see the “L” outside lumbering / above Randolph Street, but center right you can catch / Heca’s sparkly black skirt.

In the kitchen, Mama starts to sing: Letter B, Letter B! | She sways to The Beatles in her pink fuzzy in-door slippers.

Like that visit to Roswell, we | took. As it slept, a fire began, | and the sky circumvolved | like streams coiling around.