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36 LUNCH The฀zoo.฀฀So฀one฀thinks฀up฀from฀ the฀amoeba,฀way฀ahead฀to฀one’s฀great-grandchildren someday฀or฀no฀day.฀฀Then฀back฀where฀old฀ photographs฀live,฀those฀minutes locked฀in฀the฀ice of฀someone’s฀remembering,฀some฀uncle with฀a฀camera.฀฀But฀the฀zoo—here!—฀ is฀very฀matter-of-fact:฀฀warm฀bodies฀(monkeys,฀ zebras,฀any฀moving฀thing with฀beak,฀with฀feathers)฀versus the฀flashing฀cold฀and/or฀hot฀ones:฀฀the฀bite-the-dirtfor -all-we-do-wrong฀ones฀ or฀the฀soft-bellied฀frog฀or฀the฀salamander฀flattened,฀ shrunk,฀puffed฀out,฀its฀legs,฀arms,฀ sweet฀little฀claws฀completely฀ not฀a฀snake,฀having฀lured฀no฀one฀and฀nothing. I฀was฀saying:฀฀consider฀the฀metal฀bars.฀฀To฀keep฀ such฀wonders฀in,฀to฀keep฀us—smaller฀wonders—out.฀฀ Almost฀noon,฀some฀uniformed฀someone฀ turns฀up฀with฀bananas,฀seeds,฀ fetal฀pigs,฀apples,฀the฀works.฀฀How฀not to฀love฀this฀guy?—his฀trusty฀ indifference,฀his฀all-right-another-day-of-it shrug฀and฀off-key฀whistle.฀฀The฀animals look฀up.฀฀Something฀is฀about฀to฀happen.฀฀Food does฀that.฀฀In฀this฀saddest฀of฀worlds,฀think lunch!฀฀and฀an฀ocean฀of฀hope rides฀over฀us.฀฀Is฀it฀hope?฀฀And฀too฀cheap?฀฀This฀ metaphor฀filling฀the฀moment?฀฀the฀mind?฀ the฀life฀finally฀and฀exactly?฀฀I฀mean฀ the฀guy’s฀coming฀closer,฀the฀one฀ with฀a฀bucket.฀฀And฀a฀shovel. ...

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