ABSTRACT
I saw Michi on the street. I could've jumped on her and hugged her. She's been gone too long. She's not like me anymore. She's somebody else. Somebody that's going somewhere . . . and what am I? I've got three things that are mine-you, Don Quixote and the Wizard of Oz book I shared wif Michi. She should have won it. Mrs. Weiner just din't like her and liked me better. She should-she had me in seventh grade for two years. I just couldn't add anything up. I couldn't see two apples plus two apples and see four apples. I saw apple pies or birds picking at the apples or beautiful orchards filled wif apple trees, even though I din't know what an apple tree looks like. I mean, I seen them in books, but I've never touched one. I never grabbed an apple off a tree, right there, where it was created. I used
to pretend I was this sbig, fat apple tree about to bloom. I thought this must be the way it feels, about to explode wif somefin beautiful. I wish I could see that place where things actually grow. (Pause) You're too quiet. . . babies shouldn't always be so quiet.
