The Man with One Eye

They played cards in the back alleys, a big group of them. Sat on stools and bantered, throwing their cards when things went wrong. He had one eye and no tongue. No one knew what he did in the day and he always had teary eyes when he arrived, coming over the horizon with his head down and his arms hanging. He sat by a tree in the day. Watched the house with the big green gates and the little white pebbles like stardust. He sent her flowers one day, but couldn’t write. She presumed they were from the man in the big Cadillac and she married him. When the bells tolled, a friend said, “You look so down. What is it friend?” and the man with no tongue shook his head and pushed the conversation away with a hand.