because I can cool his head with mine.  

-

he clucks, I cluck.  we are deep into our clucking.

-

from space.  the same way it comes to animals.

-

that other thing is between you and god.

-

item:  a nicotine patch, from father’s arm, in the event you find yourself playing with dolls.

-

item:  we don’t have that kind of time.

-

object sadness, not yet coined, is a peephole I can’t put my finger on.

-

colloquialism is more than extra love for the hatchet.

-

there’s nothing left to swallow the tip of his tongue.