Sunday, January 04, 2009

The game beckoned and you answered. Line up dots before the computer screen lines up dots. I was having a conversation. I was in the middle of loving you, but the game was scratching at your shin, asking to be lifted up and set in your lap like an injured or willful child. I acquiesce. We name the game. We christen the game Newberry, and we three are very happy together lining each other up, each before the other, before the other. I didn't know how many configurations I had, how many ways I could avoid being meaningful. Downstairs there are children who are hungry. They are hungry, but not for dinner. I was in the middle of a conversation, I was loving you.

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