They're sentences in waiting, diagrams drained. Tuesday raises her hand & asks directions to the bathroom. She misses cigarettes, lessons how kissing the boy she drags into the Sadie Hawkins dance keeps her homeliest gal in all them hills. Tuesdays fenced in, clad like tea cozies as though for a parade. A crossing guard & spinster, spent tissues saved & saying how I'm with stupid is a saying for life. Sundown thereafter kicking & kicking. Boys waving from the backseat of a car.