At the end there were straws br in her glove compartment, I'd split them open br to taste the familiar bitter residue, near the end br I ate all her Percodans, hungry to know br how far they could take me. br A bottle of red wine each night moved her along br as she wrote, I feel too much, again and again. br br You asked how and I said, Suicide, and you asked br how and I said, An overdose, and then br she shot herself, and your eyes filled br with wonder, so I added, In the chest, so you br wouldn't think br her face was gone, and it mattered, somehow, br that you knew this. . . br br Every year I'm eight years old and the world br is no longer safe. Our phone becomes unlisted, our mail br is kept in a box at the post office, br and my mother tells me always br leave a light on so it seems br someone is home. She finds a cop br for her next boyfriend, his hair br greasy, pushed back with his fingers. He lets me play br with his service revolver while they kiss br on the couch. Cars slowly fill the windows, and I aim, br making the noise with my mouth, in case it's them, br and when his back is hunched over her I aim br between his shoulder blades, silently, br in case it's him.