Fiction | June 01, 1989

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My mother has resurfaced in central Illinois. I read it in the newspaper, Articles from Around the Nation. Stone flamingos disappear from lawns, the article said. I know that’s her. I know how she does it. No one thinks twice when they see an old lady around the neighborhood. She makes friends with the dogs and when she goes back to lift the birds, there’s no trouble. Bones in her pockets and a good idea of the whole neighborhood’s schedule, she’d make a good thief.

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