I am kicking myself over the surprise my brain ruined.  nearby, a man misremembers his trip to heaven while a woman blames herself for making it doubly hard to leave.  the size of my death is the size of any deer would die for a sugarcube.  my father can’t find what he’s wearing that isn’t his.  mother she is off buying foods that share a ghost.  I call to my sister but know openly she hasn’t been deaf from the day god believed her legs were part frog.  I have not heard of the spoon that has a past.  something in my stomach wants to see a star.