|
fyn gula
|
He is a scarecrow stuffed with flesh and bone. taken down from the pole he was once attached to like a prisoner. he dances and not only frightens birds. i take him to borders and he brays like a donkey-headed man at women he thinks are pretty. they ignore his cofident stupidity and hide from his toothless grin. he drinks freely from the coffee you're just suppossed to taste and he stands by the erotica stumbling on to a book of orgies. like a 12 year-old, he falls into the leather couch as if he's at the home of a wealthy friend. finding a guide book on how to buy a used car, he holds the book at arm's distance because he needs reading glasses. you give him a book about surviving separation and divorce in a woman's point of view and the scarecrow yells, "go away!" secretly knowing he could never leave her on her own.
|
000502
|