obsession,
other than building a miniature
doll house
with tiny furniture
and tiny people,
a whole town with
cats and dogs,
and a railroad yard,
was the weather.
there was nothing like a good
storm
to melt her butter
and get her
on the phone,
speed dialing
from her laminated
sheet hanging on the kitchen
wall.
she'd call after a foot would fall,
and despite
living only two miles
away from her, she'd ask,
so how's the weather
where you are?
did you get any snow?
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