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A Reactionary Tale
by Linh Dinh
I was a caring husband. I bought socks for my family.
My swarthy wife liked to wear these thick woolen socks that came
up to her milky thighs.
I had a lover also. People could see me walking around each
evening carrying a walking stick.
My most vivid memory, looking back, is of a pink froth bubbling
out of my infant's mouth.
Not everything was going so well: one morning, malnourished
soldiers marched down our tiny street, bringing good news.
When good news arrives by mail, the cuckoo sang, tear up the
envelope. When good news arrives by e-mail, destroy the
computer.
When an old friend came by to reclaim an old wound, I said to my
oldest son: Go dump daddy's ammo boxes into the fragrant river.
To reduce drag, some of my neighbors were diving headfirst into a
shallow lake.
We were rich and then we were poor. A small dog or maybe a cat
now pulls our family wagon. |
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