Pretzel Art

“listen’ the world seemed to say. She tried to ignore it. She had errands to run.
“listen” she heard as she walked through the city.
The voice was incessant, insistent, effective.
She slowed, stopped, and stooped, put her ear to the pavement.
First she heard nothing.
Her legs moved, as if on their own, to a more comfortable position.
Still she listened.
Soon she heard voices vibrate through the concrete.

       

“look at that crazy woman”
                “someone should call the cops”
        “Maybe she is acting out from being tortured”
                “It’s a new kind of exercise”
        “I feel like that sometimes. . . like the world is all upside down and twisted”
                She’s hungry for attention”
        ‘She is calling attention to the suffering in the world”
        “seems like posing by those flowers she is acting as a living memorial”
                “she is atoning for sin”
“I bet the store is paying her to attract people”
        “she has emotional issues”
                “She is trying to keep her unique personality and                                                                                         not be like everyone else”
                        “It’s a spiritual practice”
                        “I bet that hurts”

She didn’t respond, but learned as she listened.
Then she got up and went to auditions at the circus.