Here is a fat animal, a bear that is partly a dodo. Ridiculous wings hang at his shoulders as if they were collarbones while he plods in the bad brickyards at the edge of the city, smiling and eating flowers. He eats them because he loves them because they are beautiful because they love him. It is eating flowers which makes him so fat. He carries his huge stomach over the gutters of damp leaves in the parking lots in October, but inside that paunch
he knows there are fields of lupine and meadows of mustard and poppy. He encloses sunshine. Winds bend the flowers in combers across the valley, birds hang on the stiff wind, at night there are showers, and the sun lifts through a haze every morning of the summer in the stomach.