We pluck something rusty from the pulp. 

Ancient like a dry leaf, cracked 

wisdom tooth. You butterfly your hands 

to cook the center. The past flashes all smoggy 

in the car window. When Mia told me 

about Bentonville Arkansas and later 

I saw it on the package of mushrooms I got from Walmart. 

It comes like that, in pockets. 

Renata Adler says 

altogether too much of life is mood. 

But I always remember it as 

altogether too much of love is mood. 

I can’t stop doing that. Meeting two ends together,

quick spark. Then long dotted lines.