Wrinkle | Kingwood, TX | 2016

I sat a long time in my sister’s back yard to stare at the slide bolted to the family swing set. Its white fiberglass remained aglow well past dusk, as if the slide had soaked up the sun to light up the evening. The next day at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts we viewed a surreal painting that portrayed a similar wrinkle in the fabric of space/time. I stared at it as I’d stared at the slide and couldn’t remember if I’d actually touched the back yard chute — if it had substance or was indeed a mysterious gap sliced across my vision. Later at the house, young Anna whooshed down its length and didn’t disappear. So no, darn it, it wasn’t a portal to a parallel universe.