I live on Stutt's Creek, where there are baby nettles and snakes that look like copperheads and two goldens who think they are deerhounds. I have a fern that's meant to live outdoors and a kitchen with empty drawers. The children next door call me Miss Carolyn and I have a date to look at some fireflies in the cornfield up the road with the eldest, Miss Allie, this Sunday night, her schedule permitting. We went on a bike ride and she showed me all the houses on her road (Miss Marlene, Miss Sally, Miss Kaykay who has a pool we can swim in). I work the floor at Southwind Cafe slugging unsweet teas with lemon and softshells and Terrapin ales. My shoes are different sizes. There are red, white, and purple flowers on the porch at Homagin and Joyce has died. The asparagus is past. Everything is strange and beautiful and I'm forgetting, forgetting.
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