I apologize. I did not read the bible. Did not brush his hair. I do not groom before I dream. Also, this: You specifically told me, "He might ask to sleep with one of his sister's dolls. Tell him no." He did indeed ask. I said no, but gave him another doll, one I carry within my silver purse, alongside the water bottle of gin. The doll has purple roller skates and an afro. I'm sorry. I took a certain article of clothing home, and some scrap paper from your tabletop; and the skies last night like rivers of tumbling gumballs and moaned the walls and blinked off the lights and I sat in the dark thinking my mind was sky, these sticky colors, and I lit your snowman candles and took them to the bathroom and shucked off my clothing and stared at my breasts. They are enormous and extraordinary stereo speakers. Thumping bass all over. Listen to the floor, the walls. The phone rang 14 times and 14 times I did not answer. I'm sorry. The problem is I was happy, you know, the children asleep and me naked in the flickering… This entire town is either a coat or a dog. And me frightened and too honest and soon to sway. I understand little of what I am, but movement. Hummingbirds and rivers. Thoughts. Drinks. Bodily fluids. The sky. I did read the bible—spoke several Revelations. I let people tumble your living room. We danced. I placed four Jolly Ranchers in the bathroom showerhead. I'm sorry. I am evil, at times. To eat your entire glass snowman of Jolly Ranchers. The low-fat Cheez-Its, the animal crackers, the bacon bits, the yogurt (all 6 cups), the entire bag of salad, to drink up the red wine vinegar and the root beer. Also, one last thing, while searching for the breaker, I found your bottle rockets and Mason jar of skunky weed. It was surprising to me. I'm sorry.