I was blind the three years I tried to master the guitar. I hung a horseshoe upside down so good luck wouldn’t accumulate. Tried playing chess and Scrabble with men who’d done time. I never won. All the grandmasters are in jail. The night mom made horseshoe crabs with cauliflower, my sight returned. I buried the guitar out back. When the wind blows from the west, my garden sings old country tunes while lady bugs, all liquored up, stalk aphids in the parking lot.