The Thought
Yes, I am so rich that I hold my wallet close to my chest
before I pull out a bill, but even then people crane their necks
to look inside. And when I eat French pastry I always try
to do so in private, yet there always seem to be eyes
staring through the glass. And the tongues—oh, the tongues!—
are what upset me the most, the likes of which remind me
of snakes from nature programs that I watched as a child.
And, yes again, I am still a child in so many ways—a rich,
sensitive child who would give it all away if I thought
it would make any difference. . .
Meet the Author:
Jeffrey Zable is a teacher, conga drummer/percussionist
who plays Afro-Cuban folkloric music for dance classes and
rumbas around the San Francisco Bay Area and a writer of poetry,
flash-fiction, and non-fiction. He's published five chapbooks
and his writing has appeared in hundreds of literary magazines
and anthologies, more recently in The Paradox, Beach Chair
New English Review, The Raven's Perch, Hot Pot, and many others.