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Flash of Blue Catches in_aXomjepQfJJieJdi^^ Rebecca Aronson What the eye sees and does not want it winks inside itself: encrypts in cortex. There are gaps where things slide through: rainy Thursday, from a bus window a bent bird winging open into a blue dome above a slickered crowd and you are eight and lost: a rush of hems and strangers' backs, jostle of boots, a damp stampede. Your world out of reach, neighborhood gone, friends, the low wall behind the school, all gone in the seconds it took to drop your hand and step away, look around, find yourself nowhere near knowing where you areā€”then the familiar gloved grasp, still hurrying on. They would never know how badly missing you had been. 28 ...

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