I'm ashamed to be writing this like that dream I used to have about my privates being slapped on the TV screen in other countries with subtitles. I'd wake up disgraced and now my pain embarrasses me and makes all of me as tender and secret as between my legs. Mama, how could you do me like that? When I married Earl you cried like a baby and you said it's hard leaving my dumplings all around the world. Well hell, I only moved five miles away. But seeing you crying like that and how your face looked, puffy and wet, reminded me that you carry my heart around in your big flowery pocketbook. But now Kaybug is gone. What can I say to God? I know you go between us. In my dreams you give me my heart back but I don't want it. It's not safe in your purse and it's not safe inside me and it's not safe with God. I want to be in a dark room without God and without my smashed up heart and without you.