as a boy, I envied the vague.  a man at my father’s table told this tale of a rabbit struggling beneath the belly of a dead dog.  not wanting to see the rabbit, I covered my eyes.  that night, my sister put me to bed and let her boyfriend sing me to sleep on the phone.  I never ran away from home because my dream of doing so seemed more like a memory.  when mother tells us she is looking at a picture of our father

we know it is any picture has him in it.