We went inside just once, my friend Rita and I. It stank of smokes and liquor and socks. We were eight. From the living room, I could see outside through the open back door. Tall summer grass waved from his backyard. Some people were dancing and laughing. Their heads leaned way back. He played fiddle and had many friends. Some of them fell and did not get up. I could hear their laughing from down under the grass. On Friday, I confessed. I disobeyed my mother six times I said, adding this sin to the other five. We did not remove our shoes. I didn’t tell anybody about that. Last night I dreamed my footprints were locked in there. Like prisoners.