Saturday's Storyteller: The Zoo
The Zoo by Belinda Roddie Look, they've locked all the beasts in cages, son. They don't have claws or sharp teeth, or mangy fur or evil eyes. But they are crying. God, how the beasts cry. The zookeepers use our dollars to feed them potatoes and water. Potatoes give them all the nutrients they need. No meat for beasts like these. All the heat is gone from their eyes. They don't starve, but they stay at a very light weight. Their ribs protrude like the bars that close them in. The beasts get to play once in a while. Sometimes, they swim in their pools. Sometimes, they play with toys. Sometimes, they communicate with each other, mostly with their hands and with other "gestures." Language left them long ago. Their mouths move. But we can't make sense of it. Most of the time, they sleep. And when they sleep, I believe they dream. They must dream, my boy. They must dream about birthday parties and merry-go-rounds. They must dream about roller coasters, dr