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Martha Silano

Sometimes it’s not the trip to Mazatlan,
betting on the winning team, but how

you left your car for eighteen hours
without plugging the meter, didn’t

get a ticket. A last-minute trip
to the restroom can be a blessing too—

not only because you found a poppy seed
between your two front teeth, but also

when you checked for human feet
beneath your chosen stall you found

four paws instead. Or sitting in traffic—
cow blocking the roadway on State Route 12.

You collect them the way scrapbook buffs
arrange photos, captions:

two hours all to yourself
at the Suburu Service Center;

your son drawing you a picture
(Mama wearing a scarf in the wind!);

the student who knew Hephaestus:
the pho just south of Everett on Highway 99.

Martha Silano

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Author Discusses Poems