Leftovers
I like the picture I have of you in my head. Of you in your kitchen, with a spoon as tall as me, stirring a pot as tall as you--on a stepladder so you can reach. I like thinking you will always be that Mony. Making gumbo--serving out rations to all the family, each of us with the same number of shrimp in our bowls.
I D I D I T
