Paul Boccaccio

The old lady, silly twit, listens with her mouth open and smiles dreamily, looking at me. She shouldn’t stare at me. I stick out my tongue. Maryvanna, shutting her eyes in shame, whispers hatefully, “Hideous creature!” That night she’ll read her uncle’s poetry to me again: Nanny, who screamed so loudly outside, Flashing past the […]