I closed my eyes, suddenly remembering the game we used to play on the continuous slope of lawn that extended from house to street, an expanse of green interrupted only by the concrete lines of sidewalks leading to every house. Mother, may I, we would ask, before hopping, creeping, whatever was commanded, towards the Mother of the game. If you forgot to ask for permission you had to go all the way back to where you started. Usually, that meant you would lose, but it was possible that everyone else, just as eager to advance, would also forget. It could happen. In fact, with a rare, poetic justice, it just had. collage, 11 x 14 in
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