The Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog

Anger I: Gray Cement

28 Anger I: Gray Cement Neither my mugger nor my rapist nor the gypsy in Florence who cleverly stole my wallet while I admired her daughter’s baby in front of Santa Maria Novella a good professional job they owed me nothing but the smooth men who promised me and lied the politicians who promised me and lied should fry in hell and be smeared on toast said the old woman You admire me do you coming and going the way you do using your extra stem tra la la the privileged lot of you casting your gaze over the lot of us approvingly but who are you to judge merely because of my immobility you imagine yourself so superior crouch down you are in my light said the dark red tulip 29 They sold my brother said the dog the new owners trained him no meadow no tossed balls no sandy beach hard palm short leash they made his poor wet nose a killer’s tool taught him to track to threaten to snarl whether in a train station or a gray cement prison they yell get him it excites them they like to watch my brother drool and attack ...