Turtles

There is perhaps nothing harder than packing up a decade-and-a-half of a different life--anyone else who's been there knows what I'm talking about--but in doing that, several things thought to be lost came to be found: a light-brown T-shirt with a flying prairie dog on front; a framed picture of Mark and me, happy outside some coffee place in Provincetown, in 2001, just two weeks before September 11th; three posters from three different readings I'd given, one in Massachusetts, one in Miami, one in San Diego; and these two (rubber?) turtles I'd bought on the boardwalk, in Rehoboth Beach, late last July. I was sure I'd accidentally tossed them out in a fit of summer cleaning, and there they were, knotted up inside their original plastic bag, one head up, one head down.