Leaving Bread Crumbs Behind
We walk through the novel holding hands.
She draws circles around the story’s office
politics while I count the number of water
cooler bottles in the paper towel dispenser.
A camp of gypsies along the fax machine.
Sheer granite cliffs in the conference room.
A sailor’s moon concealed in the queen’s
handbag. Then someone turns the page and
our luft balloon freefalls into Crater Lake.
—Maurice Oliver, Portland, OR
