” I trailed off into my thoughts.“Listen, you have got to tell me about what’s on your mind. Otherwise you are in deep trouble, kid”“I am so...ry, mam. I cant talk about it. With you.” Now, I was trembling.She put her left arm on my shoulder and with her other hand she raised my chin so that I can look straight into her eyes. “ You can tell me. I am your teacher. I have experienced life, more than you. May be, I can help.”Something in her voice assured me to conjure up enough courage and ..” I. But then my reverie was interrupted."Then you the poet-boy from New York, huh? The spoiled apple," the bleaty voice laughed long at its stupid joke. "So, you must be pretty faggoty, that right?"The man speaking sat several stools away. I was relieved, and certainly not worried, directly. His stool was like a rotten stump, drenched by a week of rain, and with a day of sunshine there he had swollen alive, some gigantic fungus. The man was such a mountain of fat I doubted he could get up and move. More

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