“Tupperware, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Tupp-er-ware: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Tupp. Er. Ware. She was Tupp, plain Tupp, in the morning, standing three by five inches. She was Tupper in slacks. She was Per at school. But in my arms she was always Tupperware.”