From the Garden
The gypsy in the park tries to sell me a plastic flower. She tells me if I buy it, I will save hungry children from starving.
The flower seems too familiar.
I grew up in a house filled with artificial flowers, wax fruit, dead branches stuck in pots of gravel. Everywhere branches were littered with the greenery of paper and cloth.
I'm not buying. The gypsy first lowers her price, then curses. May everything I touch turn to dust. Only the lifeless will come to me.
Of course, she didn't need tea leaves.
The flower seems too familiar.
I grew up in a house filled with artificial flowers, wax fruit, dead branches stuck in pots of gravel. Everywhere branches were littered with the greenery of paper and cloth.
I'm not buying. The gypsy first lowers her price, then curses. May everything I touch turn to dust. Only the lifeless will come to me.
Of course, she didn't need tea leaves.
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