St. Joe’s altars in New Orleans have a pile of abundancethat’s been sitting out for too long it’s best notto eat it I wonder what to do with my angerwhen it’s been sitting out for too long I feel fullfrom love today a kind of trinitarian Liebe I woke upstartled from a dream that a man I hadloved loved me and wrote the word three times in an email:Liebe. Liebe. Liebe.I never got the email.He sent it to an address I had for some fifteen odd yearsan account that a spambot attacked and I deleted andis now owned by someone in Crimea who may or may notpretend to be me one day but isn’t fun fact: if you get an e-mailfrom [email protected] even though for years it was meit’s not me fun fact: if you send an e-mail to [email protected]even though for years I would read it I won’t I can’t.In the dream the man I had loved was telling my sisterthat he wanted to committo some one some thing. He was married. Dear Readerto be honest I don’t know if he really loved me he told me oncethe word Liebe is so much stronger than what we mean in Englishby love but then he said in his way that he loved me andI’d like to think he did. I did. Love him and finallyam no longer ashamedby the spear that pierced my fleshI did not ask but was given