waterway raze she leaves me with two scoops of her famous mashed potatoes and boards the same plane that brought her here. she tells me she did all her crying last night. i memorize the thick wash of freckles on the bridge of her nose. try to count them all. we lie and say we'll see each other soon. at home, i gather green and gold gummy worms while my stepsister seizes sour keys from their see-through sepulchre. two men down the hall heckle the movie they're pretending to watch. if i were a truck pinned to an unplanned parking spot by two tan sedans, i'd fight my way free, drive off the edge of the ambassador bridge, and swim the strait that lets lake erie pass notes to lake st. clair. a river's neck doesn't care if it's wept on. a tear is just a bit of rain that fell from a stolen slip of sky. you can drink or you can drown, but it all trickles down the same in the end. 260904 what's it to you? who go blather from