Our parents loved excess and everyone knew:

all the toothless old ladies in town, aware of the weight

of our clinking trash. Today, I live in a one-room apartment

the size of a book. And where is my sister? Hungary,

Singapore, some city where English acts as a second tongue. 

Her smile remains unblemished as resume paper. Last month,

the hygienist, tow-headed as we were as children, pored

over my x-rays and, aghast, asked, what happened?