I deleted a post. I tried to delete you. Like a Jack in the Box, time winds a memory to pop. Out of gas, I break the white line. Her words edge me out, a rag doll or rather a wolf in sheepskin. She skips, hand-in-hand on the wild edge of a curb. Superb feelings drew out like pigeons from a cage. A stage. Of crickets and thickets of stilts of grain. A fluttering of a heart, a backhanded compliment, all while I sit cross-legged repotting a struggling orchid.