"KEEP TURNING
THE KNOB, CHILD.
maybe the blue gumball
will come rolling out
like a man's thumb
from between
some whore's legs."

this old woman sat
knitting across from me
and she had spectacles
because she was a spectator.

"women are like
those gumball machines.
you put money in their teeth
and suddenly you've
unlocked the joints
in their knees."

oh, she was bitter.
she was crumbling
like a corpse.

"why do you say that
about women?" i asked.
"aren't you one yourself?
does that mean you're
a gumball machine too?"

the old woman put down
the knickers she was knitting
and looked at me
with twenty years worth
of regret.

"child, I talk ill of my kind
because I am of my kind.
you'll understand
when you're older."

"has the world destroyed
you so
that you'd hate the genitals
you have?" I asked again.
"they feed the next generation
and you bear the shoulders
of your children in your womb.
how could you not love
the kind nature of your body."

"these sagging things
are everything but kindness.
men pulled the skin off of me
and so did some women.
all that's left is old age."

I was silent for a while
staring at the pink
gumball in my hands.

"here," I said, giving
my gumball to her,
that old hag.

"child, don't you want this?"

"no. gumballs make me happy
but I think you need it more."

the woman looked
close to tears.

"are you angry
about what I said to you?"

"I am. but," I said,
"I think you need
love. hate has been
all
you've ever
received. I think
you've lived through
enough."

the old woman
stared at the gumball.

"I have no place after
everything I said but
don't be a
gumball machine,
little one.
what you have to give
is worth more than
two quarters.
more than the hands
of a deceiver,
a ravisher."