Brendan, my neighbor—and my husband’s crib partner—suddenly leans away from us and raises his voice to seemingly no one in the adjacent, dark living room, “Is the dealing team docked points for not offering opponents the cut?”

“What’s up, funnyman,” my neighbor said. He waddled over and hobbled up the only two stairs in stiff jean shorts that fell to the top of his bony knees where scars wrapped the flesh like vines.

“We must go up this steep slope to reach the opening, so please, pace yourself, Professor.” 

He was not my customary guide. Aldo’s wife was ill, so I had no choice but to hire this man.

I allow children within my memory garden / up and down crumbling steps / eroded by time and weather

peanut / butter / buckeye / with one / bite taken / and spit out

I don't want to die but I don't want to / live, neither, I want a third choice