Love In The Ruins

You do not have to heal to be beautiful. In Italy, there is a woman happy and fat as a 
clam herding her ducks with a stick while she squabbles with her neighbors about the 
hole in the fence that has not been fixed. Meanwhile her husband chews his coffee 
and daydreams about a woman he loved in the fifties. She must have been drunk, the 
policeman decided, when she was struck by the train. Not knowing she laid down quietly 
on the tracks, two girls growing in her like green beans. The surrounding trees hushing 
them to sleep.