"Lines,
nothing but lines, for the convenience of human
structures."
 Pierre
Reverdy
The poor man at the corner house is out walking the
shadow of his dog again. The rest of us huddle in
embarrassment. Did he ever have a dog, a real dog,
the new woman asks, the divorcee with the, you know,
big palaver. Yesterday I
thought we had put this behind us after putting it to
a vote. Mr. Glockomorra says his teeth started to
hurt before picking up the signals, the ones we count
on. Again everyone wants me to be the spokesman. I
pick up a rolled up newspaper and the new divorcee
kisses me with a right cross. It's a tough town, here
where the sun sets before noon. I'm thinking of
resigning and asking the new neighbor out for the
count. I'm thinking of getting my own shadow dog.
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