Laundry Day in Grand Marais

I washed all my hearts today, the ones I found scrambled with thousands of stones on the Lake Superior beach, all of them heaped on a window sill gotten dusty and thick with dishwater vapor over the years, but when I washed them I saw only some were hearts and others were shadows, pretenders, round rocks tinted by the sun to trick me into thinking they were hearts and so I gathered those up, all the aliases, and threw them out the door into the sand for someone else to find, and arranged the rest like tiny headstones, polished and sweet and waiting.