fig.80) farm squabble There were so many lovers, more than any of us could have guessed. As she liked to say, "I've traveled everywhere and always tried the soup." I could see this. But I also saw her swapping shoes in the lane, with the traffic around her snarling like bears swear at stupid. “This barn is like a wood and full of naked animals,” it's been written on the telephone's stationary. The ink is blue and thin but the words are blown up. She was fond of reminding me that her many lovers could be numbered, but counting was still like traffic lights without math. That color was the illusion and numbers never needed stars. In our room. I'm singing, Iron Man. I replace the lyrics, "I like traffic lights, pretty little itty-bitty traffic lights, red ones green ones too, I like traffic lights yes, I do!" Because, I am God! Because, these are words and we agree about structure. We always agree about something. The effect of her has been like a targe...