I know an attorney who lives in Detroit. He is one of my father’s friends. When I was little, the attorney bought me a hammock and tied it up between two oak trees. I didn’t know his name, so I called him Thank You. A few years later I tagged him—Fred. When I was twenty-four I discovered that Fred was really Allen and Allen was dying of cancer, but he was already lost to me. I gave his name to a girl on the street for a bone.