Smoke again draws my attention today, and Thanksgiving is approaching at my grandparents’ house in a West Texas oil town, Gloria’s own left shoulder now like one of their living room lampshades with the pompom tassels, me a boy dreaming of the mermaid who’s stretched herself out along Bogie’s own left thumb, flipping up her tail, hair unfastened by the sea. Time falls apart, and we’re free. ⠀