4/23 I
go home, smudge the house and spread rose petals on my doorstep for the dead.
My neighbor Steve confesses he gets nervous: “Every time I see you do that,
somebody dies.” Odd, I never connected the two. Sinéad calls to say our cousin
Barney O’Reilly, Sr., died. We prepare for an Irish wake: whiskey and bagpipes
in Eagle Rock. I sing Danny Boy.
The earth is shaking again. Time is imploding.
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