The blue domino

tin in the closet

makes me think in mul-

tiples of five. How

many games did we

play? Five, ten, fifteen,

twenty, two thousand…

How many times did

I hear stories of

how Grandpa always

tried to block the game?

I can’t add these games

and stories up to

anything but a

wish for more. Memo-

ries collapse into

each other, a pile

of your focused eyes

large through your glasses,

your hand hovering

to place your last piece.