Photo credit bottom right: editor at Glen Arbor Sun Times
Sally sends a message. “ Asking you to stop talking about me to my mother and my kids! Hurt is an understatement.” The sun floats for an instant and makes pine cones glow the color of oranges. Alice peers from the tall picture window on the second floor to the far end of the alley. Boys shout. Squirrels run across electric wires, manipulating and indulging as if they are tree limbs. A pink plastic bag moves across Main Street and lands far out into Lake Michigan where a swimmer makes his way across to Chicago. A mushroom sprouts in the terrace at the St. Joseph public library. At 4:00 the lilies begin to close their petals under the smoke rising from the outdoor pipe of the dry cleaning business. The lilies are pure white. A halo. The bulb hanging in the center of her studio, winks out. Alice hesitates. A little black bird hits the windowpane and lands below on the sidewalk. A girl on roller skates stops to look. Above her the clouds spin a round belly of grey. The wind blows itself in. From the open window on the north side of Alices room a stone falls from a collection placed carefully on the sill where the curtains made of linen sheets, sail. The blue line painted along the baseboards become its Lake. The lake of her sons eyes.
Alice responds: “The hurt and embarrassment you cause is way more of an understatement … I’m done.”