A month later, another Wednesday, and this time a church volleyball game in the middle of town, a block from Broadway. We play the bizarre games church children invent when the grown ups are occupied, rules so strange and rigid, and she and I are a team because we say so, and we take on all challengers in the semi-darkness of the brick alley. Olley olley oxen free and there’s yet another ghost in the graveyard. My shirt has a mastodon skeleton on the front.
About Screaming Kettle