was sooooo angry.

She stomped all the way
to the hardware store, where 
the Red Radio Flyers,
coiled-up water hoses, leaky bags
of dirt and fertilizer filled
the big wavy plate glass window.
She opened the screen door 
almost off its hinges,
the little tin bell dangling from the door,
was so loud the old guy in overalls,
always tooling around the back,
tripped on his way to the register.

Tillie was sooooo angry

She bought as many clay pot saucers
as she could carry–4 inch, 6 inch,
8 inch, 10 inch, 12–
Would you like some pots with those saucers,
Miss?
On her way out, Tillie kicked
the screen door closed–
the bell broke,
the clods of manure from her boots
hit the floor.

She was pretty pretty angry.

Tillie walked out of town very slowly,
carefully balancing the saucers
that were beginning to tilt
like the leaning tower of Pisa.
She made it to the backyard
where the hollyhocks hide
the garbage cans, piled high
the clay saucers,
picked each one up–one at a time–
smashed each saucer on
a mound of big gray rocks
older than the moon
until the shards exploded
into teeny tiny bits of orange powder.

Lordy, she was angry
we never did find out
why for–

Tillie was sooooo angry.