The blue domino
tin in the closet
makes me think in mul-
tiples of five. How
many games did we
play? Five, ten, fifteen,
twenty, two thousand…
How many times did
I hear stories of
how Grandpa always
tried to block the game?
I can’t add these games
and stories up to
anything but a
wish for more. Memo-
ries collapse into
each other, a pile
of your focused eyes
large through your glasses,
your hand hovering
to place your last piece.
