Every year br that long br weekend just before Summer br br burned off in br the back seat, br hot-chafing-crowded, waiting for br br Mother to gather those weeds- br *spharangia*-as if br Bird's Eye and br br refrigeration never happened, br so tasty, washed & boiled & br soaked in olive oil... br br Burnt, incensed offering at an br unmarked grave in br Somersworth, NH, hissing w inactivity- br br -Never served in the military (no flag) br -Never needed to be bailed out (no teen years) br -Never hit by a pitch (sick, poor) br -Never known in the Patrida ('Amerikanaki') br -Never got a headstone (family moved on...) br br The first nice weekend of the br year (i br whined) spent chasing down almost family & br br Daddy's vestigial Memory. br br 'We shared a bed. That morning he was cold. Yaya said, 'Get up! Go! ''' br br His heart was too big for life support. br br NBA playoffs & br RedSox & br April love songs on br br the radio; black flies & sweat all over; and Theo Christo, br cold br alone br br six feet br under br nothing br br Remembered, if only today.