We Could Sell Them On the Water.
“With a world so small, it’s a wonder you won’t swallow them all. How can anybody not look you in the eye? They either fear you, or they soak you up. Don’t let them use you. Look at her. She lives in your lap, waiting for the sugar to fall from your lips. The crust from your mustache is Sunday dinner, and your knee is a supper club. Don’t let them use you; they’ll eat you up, if you don’t swallow them first.
“I only say this because I was picked apart once. My bones were sucked, cleaned, and my house was flattened. They don’t need a dinner table to feel welcome. They will throw you out with the plastic forks and paper napkins once they’ve had their fill. you and your olives, me and my rhyme
“And if you knew the number of men I’ve scraped from under my fingernails, your stare wouldn’t be so bold. I could crush your…that stare—I could make you into a mountain. Do you…know me yet? Already, I am outdone with you.
“But the world is such a wonderful place. We could get our portraits done. We could sell them on the water.”