Trickster

“It’s been gray all spring,” she says, digging for spare keys in the front lawn. She lives under stacks of junk mail and avoids stepping where the coffee grounds have soaked through to the cement. When her kitchen went up in flames, she called it spring cleaning and went back to sorting her jewelry. Once, a red squirrel crawled out of her bathtub. He waited until the end of Letterman to make a break for the open window. “Little thief,” she wailed.
“Little liar.”