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C A RW R E C K They command us, though they speak no words. —SOPHOCLES So Sophoclean, Mother on her Day beside the phone. Not the cell. No—no beside with cells. The framing is rather ugly, says Monopoly. Instead, a fructose chirp from the fake cherry, a billowing car part after halting. This picture’s all we’ve got. Hydrangea blanches and looks less posh— the framing mocks Mom like hotels no one stops at with rude stuff left poolside. A bird enters and you can’t believe how the door that frames the sign with the word printed so small from here, how it was left open. Mother on her Day takes the car apart rather than frames it, the parts plant-entwined, just needing dirt. Monopoly won the fake two hundred dollars just by showing up, no cell alert, and by reading the small print— bird track really—beside the fuel pooling in pink and green slick. Mom! The very word. 59 ...

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