Adam's apple
For about two hours the skinny man has been looking at the yellow apple, as if he's found a new planet. He holds it on his lap for a while. He would eat it, but this is the only one he has, and it belongs to the worm that touched it first, which pokes its head out, now and then, so the old man has someone to talk to. I feel his dilemma becoming mine, so I let him wonder about cutting the apple into halves, or pair it up with the moon by sticking it on the wooden fence.
hooting owl –
a pair of helpless arms
in self-embrace
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