THAT SUMMER
The roof burned continuously. I passed long hours learning the names of various shades of blue – Air Force blue, cornflower blue, Persian blue, periwinkle. Night came early where I lived with my mother and three brothers and no one to read to me to sleep, though the herd of clouds grazing at the end of the street would always lift their big, shaggy heads to listen.
FACE DOWN IN HISTORY
Then the gypsies abandoned their camp and the stars sank down to candles. All I could see was what could be surmised from circumstance, a dancing bear with a head scarf and one gold earring climbing into a cab. I was never so young again. The banished Polish princess who shared her orange spit the seeds out on the floor. She said rule number one was simple, like the valley between her breasts. There was no rule number two.