“Hey you!” she shouts from the heart-shaped window,
“Get your ass out of my yard before I call the cops!”
“Who the Hell do you think you are?” he shouts back, “Ali McGraw?”
and then blows her a kiss with both hands.
“This is no horse! This is no horse!” she screams,
and throws at him, her remaining pie tins.
“I am Ali McGraw,” she sobs. “I am.”
He starts the long swim to America.
Will he ever be comfortable in her shoes?