I remember Tony arguing in front of his mirrors, the soldiers
were painting the trees, Tony sat
on the floor of white hair, and all the trees were
painted white. And he spat at Alfonso’ s irony, but when
they played accordion, the fourth among us had no name.
“I am not sleeping with Tony! He simply cuts my hair!”
— but our dinner is a tiny blue fish and, with my lean brother-in-law,
we are playing cards. I pull spade after spade after spade but