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On-ramps braided together the way a turnbuckle twists and the sky was catching fire. Papa was a man of 15-to-20 phrases off the clock—he wouldn’t talk if talking seemed rehearsed. There were 20-to-30 imperatives on the road. “Play the drinking beer song,” “Take care of your jeans, mijo.” Things of that nature. I couldn’t tell …

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Before my mother’s mother (beside her mother), my father’s mother in her casket. There are no men beyond my mother’s father or my father.Perhaps this is why they loved their camera,my young parents who photographed everything beyond my mother’s mother.Beside my mother: her dog, red motor vehicles, a wooden spoon, an iron bell behind my …

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