Here in Denver, there is a street named Jasmine.

When I was a child, we would ride past, and my mother would say, “jazz o mine.” (Prior to her descent into madness)

I felt special, and I found it funny.

There’s also the moon flower, rice, tea and perfume.

All wonderful.

A constellation would be nice. And when people ask, please say, “she was weird – good weird. And she never stopped loving people.”