little deaths didi menendez I get my blessings from the toll plaza attendant. In his Jamaican accent, he takes my quarter and wishes me a blessed evening. Sometimes I smile back. Sometimes I don't. At Christmas he handed me a poem along with my change. I want to know when you dream of dogs, are they chasing you or licking your wounds? The night you dreamt of dogs, a wolf killed a possum in my yard. In the morning the kill was waiting for me by my kitchen door. My son once made a negative remark about gay men. I corrected him and told him love is hard to find and when you find it, embrace it. What do you teach your children? I get my music from the radio. I get my birds flying through my window. I get my poems as a Toyota cuts in front of me. I get my little deaths riding down the Turnpike. I get my love thrown in front of the backdoor.