False Promises to the Dying

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Modesty is plausibility. The lie’s appeal. Chicago unacceptably and unrealistically far-reaching. So Fresno in July. Central California. Farm country.

Minor league baseball. Young, muscular, hopeful young men trying to hit doubles into the outfield gaps. The reaching. The smell of fresh mowed grass. Earth and youth and hay fever.

Eager whisperers. The believing. The wanting.

Plans of motels and cheeseburgers. Car rides and photographs and a coffee table book.

But she is 90 pounds and fading. The neither of us admitting.