Wrack

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    -- Cold here in the garden.

    -- You were plaining about the sun.

    -- But when it goes behind a cloud --

    -- Well, you t have everything.

    -- The flowers are beautiful.

    -- Indeed.

    -- soling to have the flowers.

    -- Half-way soled already.

    -- And these Japanese rocks --

    -- Artfully placed, most artfully.

    -- You must admit, a great solation.

    -- And Social Security.

    -- A great solation.

    -- And philosophy. Furthermore.

    -- I read a book. Just the other day.

    -- Sexuality, too.

    -- They have books about it. I read one.

    -- Well to the woods no more. I assume.

    -- Where theres a will theres a way. Thats what my mother always said.

    -- I wonder if its true.

    -- I think not.

    -- Well, youre driving me crazy.

    -- Well youre driving me crazy too. Know what I mean?

    -- Going to snap one of these days.

    -- If you were a Japanese master you wouldnt snap. Those guys never snapped. Some of them were y.

    -- Well, you t have everything.

    -- Cold, here in the garden.

    -- Ca caw.

    -- You want to sing that song.

    -- t remember how it goes.

    -- Getting farther and farther away from life.

    -- How do you feel about that?

    -- Guilty but less guilty than I should.

    --  you fiuhat for me?

    -- Not yet I want to think about it.

    -- Well, I have to muck out the stable and buff up the silver.

    -- They trust you with the silver?

    -- Of course. I have their trust.

    -- You enjoy their trust.

    -- Absolutely.

    -- Well we still havent decided what co<dfn></dfn>lor, to paint the trucks.

    -- I said blue.

    -- Surely not your last word on the subject.

    -- I have some swatches. If youd care to take a gander.

    -- Not now. This sun is blistering.

    -- New skin. Yoing to plain?

    -- Thank the Lord for all small favors.

    -- The kid ever e to see you?

    -- Did for a while. Then stopped.

    -- How does that make you feel?

    -- Oh, I dont blame him.

    -- Well, you t have everything.

    -- Thats true. Whats the time?

    -- Looks to be about one.

    -- Wheres your watch?

    -- Hocked it.

    -- Whatd you get?

    -- Twelve-fifty.

    -- God, arent these flowers beautiful!

    -- Only three of them. But each remarkable, of its kind.

    -- What are they?

    -- Some kind of Japanese dealies I dont know.

    -- Lazing in the garden. This is really most luxurious.

    -- Listening to the radio. &quot;Elmers Tune.&quot;

    -- I dont like it when they let girls talk on the radio.

    -- Never used to have them. Now theyre everywhere.

    -- You t really say too much. These days.

    -- Doesnt that make you nervous? Girls talking on the radio?

    -- I liked H. V. Kaltenborn. Hes long gone.

    -- Whatd you do yesterday?

    -- Took a walk. In the wild trees.

    -- They spend a lot of time w about where to park their cars. Glad I dont have one.

    -- Haveen anything except some rice, this m. Cooked it with chi broth.

    -- This place is cold, ing around it.

    -- Fot to buy soap, fot to buy coffee --

    -- All right. The hollowed-out book taining the single Swedish municipal bond in the amount of fifty thousand Swedish s is not yours. Weve established that. Lets go on.

    -- It was never mine. Or it might have been mine, once. Perhaps it beloo my former wife. I said I wasnt sure. She was fond of hiding things in hollowed-out books.

    -- We want not the shadow of a doubt. We want to be absolutely certain<samp>..</samp>.

    -- I appreciate it. She had gray eyes. Gray with a touch of violet.

    -- Yes. Now, are these your doors?

    -- Yes. I think so. Are they on spring hinges? Do they swing?

    -- They swing iher dire. Spring hinges. Wood slats.

    -- She did things with her eyebrows. Paihem gold. You had the gray eyes with a touch of violet, and the gold eyebrows. Yes, the doors must be mine. I seem to remember her bursting through them. In one of the several rages of a summers day.

    -- When?

    -- It must have been some time ago. Some years. I dont know what theyre doing here. It strikes me they were in another house. Not this house. I mean its kind of cloudy.

    -- But theyre here.

    -- She sometimes threw something through the doorway before bursting through the doorway herself. Acid, on one occasion.

    -- But the doors are here. Theyre yours.

    -- Yes. They seem to be. I mean, Im nuing with you. Oher hand, theyre not something I want to remember, particularly. They have sort o<samp></samp>f an unpleasant aura around them, for some reason. I would have avoided them, left to myself.

    -- I dont want to distress you. Unnecessarily.

    -- I know, I know, I know. Im not blaming you, but it just seems to me that you could have let it go. The doors. Im sure you didnt mean anything by it, but still --

    -- I didnt mean anything by it. Well, lets leave the doors, then, and go on to the dish.

    -- Plate.

    -- Lets go on to the plate, then.

    -- Plate, dish, I dont care, its something of an imposition, you must admit, to have to think about it. Normally I wouldnt think about it.

    -- It has your name on the back. Engraved on the back.

    -- Where? Show me.

    -- Your name. Right there. And the date, 1962.

    -- I dont want to look. Ill take your word for it. That was twenty years ago. My God. She read R. D. Laing. Aloud, at dinner. Every night. Interrupted only by the telephone. When she answered the telephone, her voice became animated. Charming and animated. Gaiety. Vivacity. Laughter. In trast to her reading of R. D. Laing. Which could only be described as punitive. O.K., so its mine. My plate.

    -- Its a dish. A bonbon dish.

    -- You mean to say that you think that I would own a bonbon dish? A sterling-silver or whatever it is bonbon dish? Youre mad.

    -- The doors were yours. Why not the dish?

    -- A bonbon dish?

    -- Perhaps she craved bonbons?

    -- No no no no no. Not so. Sourballs, perhaps.

    -- Lets move on to the shoe, now. I dont have that much time.

    -- The shoe is definitely not mine.

    -- Not yours.

    -- Its a womans shoe. Its too small for me. My foot, this foot here, would never in the world fit into that shoe.

    -- I am not suggesting that the shoe is yours in the sehat you wear or would wear such a shoe. Its obviously a womans shoe.

    -- The shoe is in no sehing of mine. Although found I admit among my things.

    -- Its here. An old-fashioned shoe. Eleven buttons.

    -- There was a vogue for that kind of shoe, some time back, among the young people. It might have beloo a young person. I sometimes saw young persons.

    -- With what in mind?

    -- I fohem, if they were fondleable.

    -- Within the limits of the law, of course.

    -- Certainly. &quot;Young person&quot; is aic term. You think Im藏书网 going to mess with jailbait?

    -- Of course not. Never occurred to me. The shoe has something of the pathetic about it. A wronged quality. Do you think it possible that the shoe may be in some way a cri de coeur?

    -- Not a ce.

    -- You were wrong about the dish.

    -- Ive never heard a cri de coeur.

    -- Youve never heard a cri de coeur?

    -- Perhaps once. When Shirley was with us?

    -- Who was Shirley?

    -- The maid. She was studying eschatology. Maiding parttime. She left us for a better post. Perfectly ordinary departure.

    -- Did she perhaps wear shoes of this type?

    -- No. Nor was she given to the cri de coeur. Except, perhaps, once. Death of her flying fish. A cry wrenched from her bosom. Rather like a winged phallus it was, she kept it in a washtub in the basement. One day it was discovered belly-up. She screamed. Then, insisted it be given the Last Rites, buried in a fish cemetery, holy water sprihis way and that --

    -- You fatigue me. Now, about the hundred-pound sack of saccharin.

    -- Mine. Indubitably mine. Im forbidden to use sugar. I have a dition.

    -- Im delighted to hear it. Not that you have a dition but that the sack is, without doubt, yours.

    -- Mine. Yes.

    -- I t tell you how pleased I am. The inquiry moves. Progress is made. Results are obtained.

    -- What are you writing there, in your notes?

    -- That the sack is, beyond a doubt, yours.

    -- I think its mine.

    -- What do you mean, think? You stated. . . Is it yours or isnt it?

    -- I think its mi seems to be.

    -- Seems!

    -- I just remembered, I put sugar in my coffee. At breakfast.

    -- Are you sure it wasnt saccharin?

    -- White powder of some kind. . .

    -- There is a differen texture. . .

    -- No, I remember, it was definitely sugar. Granulated. So the sack of saccharin is definitely not mine.

    -- Nothing is yours.

    -- Some things are mine, but the sack is not mihe shoe is not mihe bonbon dish is not mine, and the doors are not mine.

    -- You admitted the doors.

    -- Not wholeheartedly.

    -- You said, I have it right here, written down, &quot;Yes, they must be mine.&quot;

    -- Sometimes we hugged. Lengthily. Heart to heart, the orying to pull the other into the upright other. . .

    -- I have it right here<mark>藏书网</mark>. Written down. &quot;Yes, they must be mine.&quot;

    -- I withdraw that.

    -- You t withdraw it. Ive written it down.

    -- heless I withdraw it. Its inadmissible. It was coerced.

    -- You feel coerced?

    -- All that business about &quot;dish&quot; rather than &quot;plate&quot; --

    -- That oint of fact, it was, in fact, a dish.

    -- You have a hect tone. I dont like to be hectored. You came here with something in mind. You had made an a priori decision.

    -- Thats a little ridiculous when you sider that I have, personally, nothing to gaiher way. Whichever way it goes.

    -- Promotion, adva. . .

    -- We dont operate that way. That has nothing to do with it. I dont want to discuss this any further. Lets go on to the dressing gown. Is the dressing gown yours?

    -- Maybe.

    -- Yes or no?

    -- My business. Leave it at &quot;maybe.&quot;

    -- I am entitled to a good, solid, answer. Is the dressing gown yours?

    -- Maybe.

    -- Please.

    -- Maybe maybe maybe maybe.

    -- You exhaust me. In this text, the word &quot;maybe&quot; is uable.

    -- A perfectly possible answer. People use it every day.

    -- Uable. What happeo her?

    -- She made a lot of money. Opened a Palais de Glace, or skating rink. Read R. D. Laing to the skaters over the PA system meanwhile supplementing her ine by lecturing over the try as a spokesperson for the unborn.

    -- The gold eyebrows, still?

    -- The gold eyebrows and the gray-with-violet eyes. On television, very often.

    -- In the beginning, you dont know.

    -- Thats true.

    -- Just one more thing: The two mattresses surrounding the single slice of salami. Are they yours?

    -- I get hungry. In the night.

    -- The struggle is admirable. Useless, but admirable. Your struggle.

    -- Cold, here in the garden.

    -- Youre too old, thats all it is, think nothing of it. Dont give it a thought.

    -- I havent agreed to that. Did I agree to that?

    -- No, I must say you resisted. Admirably, resisted.

    -- I did resist. Would you allow &quot;valiantly&quot;?

    -- No no no no. e e e.

    -- &quot;Wholeheartedly&quot;?

    -- Yes, okay, what do I care?

    -- Wholeheartedly, then.

    -- Yes.

    -- Wholeheartedly.

    -- We still havent decided what color to paint the trucks.

    -- Yes. How about blue?

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