As easy as a walk in the park
It is hard to see how vulnerable John Lennon was just before he got shot.
Annie Liebovitz caught the boy, naked, curling like a landed anchovy, clutching his wife.
Years later, it is she, at the opening of the winter games, wrapped in white, further dwarfed by kitsch, who reads haltingly from his imagination.
My mind flits to the nice guy at the tennis shop, come from his friend's death, who offers me sixty dollars off and says he wants me to be happy with the price. So I try.
Given this, when I go to throw toys for my collie in the park, I note well how Olympic is his joy, how lifelike his art.
David Ritchie, Portland, Oregon
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