That was the only thing I could think of to say,
really, that entire summer. Eventually, someone
made me a Holy Balls! T-shirt, which I still have,
maybe, unless I gave it to my ex-boyfriend, Chuck,
while we were still dating, and he never gave it back.
That would be just like him — and just like me, to
go and lose something like that. I think about this
all the time: Why we keep some things (a shelf full
of margarine lids, say) and let other things go.
A T-shirt shut up in a drawer somewhere, so it can
never speak to us or anyone else about that time
and place — who we were then, who was with us,
what we all said.