Take-Out

At the bottom of the pasture, a house trailer with one of its long walls neatly removed like the lid on a Japanese bento, so anyone can take in its contents with a single glance, flashing by on the highway, sunroof down, radio blaring, & look — there’s a wee kitchen, a living room with sagging sofa-bed, two bedrooms & a walk-in closet gaping empty: neither clothes nor the bodies that slipped in & out of them, white as rice, growing round on next to nothing & never feeling full.