across_the_table_across_the_world crOwl she sits on your ann taylor lap snacking like she's eating tortillas heated over a gas flame from her mamacita's kitchen in quito. she's your 3 going on 4 little girl. they gave her up for some reason. someone made a lot of money. lots of it. i see the effort it took to get your adopted daughter back to the states from my table across from yours in the monroeville borders cafe, the strained effort, the years of negotiation, the bags under your eyes, the oh so blue eyes. the veins in your arms stick out as you run little round circles of love on her brown -skinned arm. your pink-leather clogged foot nervously taps to the beat of the musician playing a damien rice cover. you've already taught her to clap. your husband with the bald spot sits beside you. he's distantly close but makes you relax. she looks at me instead. what am i to her? the sleeveless, flowery sundress she wears seems to be made for the store bought doll that she appears to be. she munches on a scottish shortbread and stares away. what does she look at? not poverty. she is for them what they are to her and that is what neither of them can ever have. 040827 ... tessa is there a limit to what can be bought and sold? 040830 ... c r 0 w l i don't think there are limits unless we are willing to respect and obey humanity as a whole, the entire earth for that matter. 080221 what's it to you? who go blather from