Why Too Much Imagination is Too Much by Tripp Howell
It takes so little to turn someone
into an old man who waits for a cab
on a side street in a rainy Canadian town,
and even less to leave him there bleeding,
his wallet gone, his last breath spilling
across the street long before the cab arrives.
It is also quite simple to turn someone
into an old woman who sits alone
by an upstairs window reading
the same obituary over and over,
pausing only to watch the puddles grow
across the garden she used to tend.
The real trick, though, is to put the gun
in the old woman’s hand,
make the cab driver her accomplice,
have the old man insured for millions,
give the cab driver a sudden pang of guilt,
and stick the old woman away on the second floor
of a two-story prison
where she used to work as a landscaper.