cobalt

Over my remaining slice of bacon, Jean-Maries
nipples poke dents on the other side of her shirt. Its
the first time I have noticed them.
Amazingly I wasnt eyeing them while I was in the pool.
Smoke envelops their faces,

A prevalent figure in these compositions
a nursed and petted melancholy
words until they were worn entirely out.

I know who I would cast in the play, said Jean Marie. You
were there, werent you? Says Larissa.

He sponged out lines and remade them; but
he only distorted them more than ever.

Im afraid. I have to go to Hot City.

Good bye Larissa.

After I buy a pack of animal crackers
and we leave Larissas house, Jean Marie drives the wrong
way for an hour, and we wind up back where we
started from. So we move
on again, aimlessly ---
all we can do is keep moving, moving.
We turn around.

Ill get you there on time, I promise, says Jean-Marie.

But Jean Marie...!
I must meet Bill Cole and the Queen of Microbiology at noon. I
Dont think well make it. When time has grown to be
so precious; moving
in some direction, in any direction. This, at least, is

progress and might bear fruit. I have no time for a shower;
to sit down is to invite death.

O, one minute past noon,
the car chugs fast, thrashing into the Hot City train station,
Traffic coming from behind, rushed to get out of the car- throwing on my Zaire hat,
slinging my bag, thanking Jean Marie,
kissing her cheek. Shes oblivious, turning away.
She drives away.

Goodbye Jean-Marie.
Somewhat silly, I wave at the disappearing car.

The boy mused a while over the substantial change
which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then
wended toward head-quarters to report.

Turning towards the Train Station.

Goodbye Tom Sawyer. Goodbye Becky.