nobody was walking with their dog everywhere—everyone was shopping or flying like normal and we were soggy we two alone and shivering and glad to get home. 

i remember when we used to pack up the red woody wagon and drive to weezie and kenny's house in anderson indiana with our dog max in the rear quietly eating the ham. 

i didn't know what america was about then, or thanksgiving. it was just loads of mashed potatoes smothered in gravy, and drumsticks. today i'm glad for the pandemic thanksgiving. i only have pictures and taste memory of then. it's hard to believe dad put up with it. now i crank about the reality of america under the heavily laden table, yet i have a warm feeling for before i knew, before dad split the family, yet and i think we can emerge the other side of the genocidal holiday and celebrate the late harvest of the groaning earth. 

i just have one tiny dog, around dinner time, who may be limping, tomorrow, and r. the cats and me.