"It's in
me....In my intestine....In my right
wall....but I knew that," Mom says in a little
girl's voice, coy, trying to put a brave face
on it. She's on a liquid diet. "If the Jell-O
is yellow, I
get red sherbet. If it's red
Jell-O, the sherbet is orange. They try to
provide a little variety." She's
hungry. If she needs surgery, it'll be in New
York and I'll be her escort. "Your last good
deed," she says. The leaves are falling fast
now. On Fremont Ave a city crew in
cherry-picker is cutting branches that grow
too close to telephone wires. It seems they
cut more than is necessary, decapitating trees
that earlier this week had looked so full and
pretty. Thin wet limbs, a few colorful leaves
still clinging to them, block the
sidewalk.
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