Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, the rain blew youinto the backseat, steaming and boisterous, my quiet sonand you his not-friend-Dad-we-only-share-some-classes,or late evenings, sunset dampening down the final laparound the oval, falling into the backseat, grass-stained andsweaty, for a grunt or two about school and other tyranniesand then we’d have the radio on for the trip to your house,or my ...
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