I take one more drive across town thinking about the retired welding

teacher easing over that rise seeing the parking lot full of white men. I wonder

if he thought he would die in the jungle ] or he would die in front of the bowling alley or die in the swimming pool . Or if, because he was a

young man, he would never die. I attach V to my driving-around thoughts.

An object unworthy of love she thought she was.

It was a cri de coeur.