Spin the tangle into the thread of memory
like the woman in the rainbow bonnet
at Cottin’s Farmers Market
on the sixth day
of the sixth month.
And buy a shaken lemonade
from the dark skinned woman
who also sells bulging bags of pork skins.
And talk to the man under his hat
from Vinland Valley Nursery
about the weather
as you overlook his potted plants.
And I said,
it is good.
I didn’t create any of it,
the lemons,
the sugar
or the hands
who shook it all with the ice.
But on the sixth day,
I drank that woman’s lemonade,
and it was very good.
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