I was male, 37 and some days.  had just dropped the kids at a house where kids can have cookies and god knows.  looking back, I shouldn’t have been driving alone.  in such a state I give women money when they approach me at gas pumps.  ten dollars is all I have.  two weeks is a plausible amount of time to be homeless.  the attendant he tells me she’s here everyday.  he’s the sucker.  I lie less when I have coin.  she’s in the process of an overseas adoption.  looking back, I was driving preoccupied with another’s woe.  woe adrift.  I rub my right eye and flip my eyelid and my car hits a kid not on a bike.  my car mourns but not in the driveway.  low, I look its way.  snow-covered.  snow-covered energy.  my wife sees me doing this then disappears so quickly into our room I think she has disappeared into her purse or into the book beneath it.  our children write about grief.  I complain it’s too short but can’t stop reading.