life outside is either an ice cream truck or a skeletal dog.  both give the boy claim to name them his early snow.  life inside is a tape measure.  there are three spaces he can free in a hurry for not just any xerox machine heaven doesn’t need.  when his mother gets taller she will open a cupboard and in it she will find the spotless knowledge he’s yet to get sick on.  she will find one plate missing.  presently, the moon is no lie and the white men move under god and god is the view from here.  in a secret the boy calls closet he has stashed a bag of basketballs that become fish when his sister gets a mouth on her.