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78 Evensong Tommy฀Kent,฀always฀sure฀about฀fixing any฀engine.฀“Give฀me฀a฀day;฀I’ll฀have฀it back฀and฀running.”฀Ben฀Cane,฀who฀hit the฀high,฀hard฀one,฀his฀lonely฀strength in฀pickup฀games.฀We’d฀try฀to฀pitch฀him low฀and฀away.฀He’d฀wait.฀Draw฀a฀walk or฀slice฀a฀double฀down฀the฀line.฀Days, that’s฀what฀there฀were:฀bordered,฀filled, spread฀like฀a฀map฀with฀only฀the฀back roads฀marked.฀If฀it฀rained,฀the฀world was฀a฀porch,฀an฀attic฀if฀it฀snowed. School฀was฀a฀lie฀insisting฀there฀were things฀more฀serious฀than฀death. Carol฀Lawson,฀amazing฀at฀math, did฀calculus฀while฀we฀were฀sputtering in฀the฀dust฀of฀algebra.฀Her฀breasts were฀the฀first฀to฀come฀to฀class, the฀first฀to฀fall฀away฀before฀she฀followed. Every฀morning,฀I฀feed฀the฀dogs,฀carry a฀bucket฀into฀the฀garden฀to฀deadhead. Overnight,฀some฀blooms฀have฀browned or฀wilted,฀lying฀across฀the฀stems฀that฀held. I฀break฀them฀off฀but฀am฀never฀sure about฀those฀that฀have฀faded฀and฀folded in฀on฀themselves.฀Their฀centers฀do฀not show,฀but฀the฀undersides฀take฀in฀the฀morning light.฀And฀their฀names—cosmos,฀pansy, cleome—feel฀happy฀on฀my฀tongue,฀never stay฀the฀way฀Tommy,฀Ben,฀and฀Carol฀do. ...

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