Grapes and Roy

I love grapes, both the red and the white. I like the firm grapes without seeds. Seeds make me angry, so does the colour blue. They make me angry on the inside, angry where people can’t see. It’s a happy place the angry place because all the anger gets along. I call it Roy. Sometimes I can hear Roy sleeping; he dreams of flying machines and girls that have little piggy heads and little piggy tails. When Roy comes out to play he likes to dance. Roy and I dance through the streets shouting obscenities with every twirl. When Roy gets tired I take photos of him and make him say big words like Albuquerque. He gets confused and takes off his shoes and then I run away with his shoes and he weeps. Oh, that Roy!