by Kirby Wright
Dadio paints a face on a coconut shell, ties dental floss to a furniture tack, and sinks the tack into the shell’s crown. He dangles the face off a jacaranda out back. There must be fifty faces already hanging on that tree. Each represents an enemy. Some of the faces have Xed out eyes. Others look like demons. A few remind me of stooges. Who are these people? I know he hates Ross the neighbor. He also hates that Marine down the street with the RV. Sometimes he even hates Mom. I spot one on a lower branch with slits for eyes and a big mouth. “Who’s that?” I ask, pointing. “This tree knows your future,” he replies.