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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=548706" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Coffee &amp; Dolls</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was a storefront for a small-time numbers runner,<br>pretending to be some sort of grocery. Coffeemakers<br>and Bustello cans populated the shelves, sparsely.<br>Who was fooled. The boxes bleached in the sun,<br>the old guys sat inside on summer lawn chairs,<br>watching tv. The applause from the talk shows and game shows<br>washed out the propped-open door like distant rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It closed for a few months. The slick sedan disappeared.<br>One spring day, it reopened, this time a sign<br>decorated the window: COFFEE &amp; DOLLS.<br>Yarn-haired, gingham-dressed floppy dolls<br>lolled among the coffee cans. A mastiff puppy,<br>the size and shape of a tipped-over fire hydrant,<br>guarded as the sedan and the old guys returned.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I don't know about you, but I've been looking<br>for a narrative in which suffering makes sense.<br>I mean, the high wail of the woman holding her dead child,<br>the wail that filled the street. I mean the sudden<br>fatal blooms on golden skin. I mean the crack deaths,<br>I mean the ice-cream truck that cruised the alphabets<br>and sold crack to the same deedle-dee-dee tune as fudgesicles.<br>I mean the raw scabs of the beaten mastiff, and many other things.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=April+Bernard">April Bernard</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=548706" data-title="Coffee &amp; Dolls de April Bernard" data-description="It was a storefront for a small-time numbers runner,
pretending to be some sort of grocery. Coffeemakers
and Bustello cans populated the shelves, sparsely.
Who was fooled. The boxes bleached in the sun,
the old guys sat inside on summer lawn chair..."></div>
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