May 14, 2019

when we sat in a circle and told stories to each other

The first warm evening had come. The light was longer than yesterday. Arthur arrived
with a fistful of poems and a hug. Emilia sidled in the way she always does, like a vapor
traveling between continents. This time she also brought twin cans of grapefruit-
flavored hard seltzer, which she poured evenly between us. By then we had transfigured
the rows of folding chairs into a wheel, and sat with our legs splayed into half-formed
spokes. Naya was there, she said when her turn came, just to listen, and she did. Bud, 
another first-timer, entered in a jacket and tie, which he unloosened as soon as Della
had finished. He had my father’s beard and a voice gentle as dandelions. Robin’s hands 
were so delicate. He said, “This is personal.” It was a Wednesday. Our faces 
were turned toward each other. We could have been anywhere, but we were here.