shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Gil Hoy



I found my grandfather's business card
in a box in our attic. The durable
card stock was badly creased, its letters
worn and faded. He was a god in my mother's eyes
and I always felt inadequate by comparison.
The truth is often less than the legend, even if he did
only finish the third grade, could add up numbers
faster than a computer and had hundreds of employees
who loved him. He's sometimes in my dreams.
I don't know where the dead go or if it's best
to forget them. I dream many nights
of a crooked house I must wander through,
filled with rooms of people I do not know.