Conspiracy to Commit Larceny: A Recipe
By Jennifer Militello
Take the man you think you love and his
fabulous lips. Take him from one place
to the next. Let him drive your car. Let him
drive it through the mood-crazed woods
until it overheats. Let the nights feed
from your eyes as you look at him. Do
not turn on the heat. Do not spill
the flavored oils of the heart. Do not
eat from the palm of your hand
a fluid ounce of what you may need.
Do something illegal. You only have to be
there when they bring the contraband in.
You only have to leave yourself behind.
The stars know. The police will prowl
your neighborhood until the plate number
matches and the car checks out.
When they bring you in, you
must remove your shoes and belt.
You must pretend there was no felony.
Then you must confess. Add your past,
a pinch of the rage you feel, and how
you sit until your father bursts in
and asks whether you have been arrested.
Add a mother who tells you she is
ashamed. An expensive lawyer. The way
you remember the taste of his kiss and
how real he was and how he would
drive dark roads at high speeds through
the back woods with the headlights off.
Remember what the stars see. And how
once it is over the lawyer will send
a letter saying he said you knew nothing,
saying he tried to keep you out of it,
though the police said he had given
you up as they made you say his name.
I had a lot of schlepping to do on Thursday, but most of it wasn't bad schlepping. The car was having its pre-winter checkup, so Paul worked from home since we only had the van. Adam had a morning doctor's appointment, so I picked him up from school and took him to the pediatrician, whose fire alarm went off mid-appointment because someone in the building was testing the sprinklers; she decided that he did not have a concussion, just headaches from too little sleep and too much school stress, but she did think he needs to see an orthopedist about his knee, so we are going there tomorrow. We also had to take his orthotic inserts to the podiatrist to be refurbished after cross country season, so we did that too.
It was the first day Vera Bradley brought back the Pink Elephants pattern and the stores warned that it might sell out very fast, so on the way to pick up the car, after putting gas in the van, I made Paul walk around the mall with me looking for the new cell phone crossbody bag, but neither the Vera Bradley store nor the Hallmark store had even gotten it in. So I dropped him off to get the car and went over to Tiara Galleries, whom I had already asked to hold one to me; meanwhile, he ordered a pizza which we had for dinner. I only half-watched Once Upon a Time in Neverland but Elementary always rocks, especially when Watson does. Here are some photos from the Second Chance Wildlife Center's fall festival last month:
I wish I had something profound to say about JFK, but it was before I was born and I feel like it's overprocessed in all of our imaginations. Maybe tomorrow.