Leaf Peeps

My friend Jesús has a glass paperweight in the shape of a mountain with one red maple leaf trapped inside. Jesús, I say, what do you need a paperweight for? You have no papers. He frowns, then smiles. Sometimes I bring the mountain to Mohammed across the hall, he says. We think it’s funny.

I take both of them on a ride in the country to look at the leaves. They keep asking things I don’t know the answer to. Which tree is that? Why is that flower blooming now? Jesus Christ, I say. Can’t you just look & enjoy? But no, they keep hollering to pull over. I take their pictures with cows, with a Dairy-Treat sign, & with a chainsaw-sculpted Indian. This looks like my friend Pedro, says Jesús. He’s still in Michoacán, sleeping with all our wives. I’ll make the print into a postcard that says, Wish you were here. Mohammed laughs harder than I’ve ever seen him.

They’re both familiar with chainsaws—I’m disappointed. It’s the one thing I know: those whirling teeth, their hungry search.