Flo
Every weekend, Flo,
my grandmother, pulled
her meticulously
pressed white satin costume
over her more-than-ample
bust, skillfully piled her
platinum hair high on her
head, rode into Seattle, where
she appeared at the Roosevelt
Hotel. She danced to the
stage and raised her arms.
“Let us pray,” she intoned
to her flock of Spiritual
Science followers.