he looked older than his identical twin brother standing at his side
it might have been the suit or the serious look on a face when committing
to a life of togetherness, they call it covenant in this part of the world
where women are baby factories, cooks, washing machines and a
salve in the night when all are fed and bathed, the dishes are done.
the yellow socks called out against all that solemnity, against black dress shoes
and grey suits, against the Temple and the bishop standing in front of them,
yellow socks belong in bike shoes pedaling up Cottonwood Canyon
for a picnic by a gurgling stream fit for a young woman in a white dress.
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