“Tiger, tiger,” Bernie says, shaking his head. Everybody’s talking about tigers these days, not sure why. I know tigers from Animal Planet, of course. And let me tell you – tigers are trouble, end of story. Maybe you think no problem, they live far away, but no – Bernie says there are thousands right here in the USA, owned privately. Like by people in fenced-in backyards. In some states you don’t even need a permit. Is this a good idea? No, which must be why Bernie’s shaking his head and saying, “Tiger, tiger.” But whoa. Then he goes on: “burning bright, In the forests of the night. What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”
He looks up. “Symmetry must have rhymed with eye in those days.” What days is he talking about? In fact, what the heck is going on? I realize that Bernie looks a little tired, maybe hasn’t slept well, possibly worrying about our finances, always a mess. “Yup,” he says, gaze now on me, “did he who made the lamb make thee? That’s the question, all right.”
Now lambs are in the picture? Bernie needs a nap, and soon.
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