It was late August when we left. I gave away all my plants, all but a few.
The huge van, idling at the curb all morning, was suddenly gone.

We got into the car. Friends handed us the cats through half-closed
windows. We backed out to the street, the trailer behind, dumb and
stubborn.

We talked little, listening to a Tiger double-header on the car radio.
Dust and cat hair floated in the light. I ate a cheese sandwich I didn’t
want.

During the second game, the signal faded until it was too faint to hear.
I felt like a hand without an arm. We drove all night and part of the next
morning.