#116

In the overcast, the stranger sits with a dog. Rough slat of the bench against his back. And his eyes, in pages, patient. Day three: Mittwoch, miercuri, Woensdag. But four: a man ha. Thursday. The evening after.

Name her Meredith, Anne, Elaine. She is thin and small and swollen. Sreda'. The ground on which she stands. Inkpot eyes. And laughter at the bar. Push friends, have her dance! Drink tickets in the MC's hands: "No use, but shake it mamma!" Yeah. Mutter on her motor, largesse. Point, Square, point: on the Border. And Stephen: the smoke, is it dangerous?

MAE and Febo's simple studio. Her books. His winks of acrylic on canvas. Laid off, on fire. Insured. Ejected from the libraria. And MAE soon after left him. Singled out in my story-teller's vision. Late, much late, her flames. Her plans. Febo, by his parents Greek, after the sun he said. And the charioteer's child? Spruce and Thirteenth Streets, I remember. It was sunset, evening, dark