21
Rosa Is Red, Violet Is Blue
Although Rosa was thirty she still maintained many of the characteristics she had possessed as a child. She was red; she was a dragon, she was a tulip. This was the way she had been made. She was blood, she was fire. The men she took to her bed observed how, when she woke, her leg twitched and her skin itched; she was constantly restless. She spurned their advances for morning affections, instead pushing for the treadmill, the coffee, the shower—all the things that set her adrenaline pulsing, things she could control. She wanted everything NOW. She was a ball of rage. As a child, on a swing, her mother pushing her, and then as a teenager by herself, she had to go higher, HIGHer, HIGHER.
She had been rebellious at school. Her mother despaired of her and her
