I think of her – this other woman I have never seen again – one arm flung out ahead while she spoke her emotions, her dress pressed back against her body by the wind, and for several moments she was my all, because I have been separated from my wife.

This woman on the village green told me she was very worried about the whales.

Of course, I spot women everywhere diving head-first into action to get straight to the point.

I’d say the public square in our house is the kitchen, which is where Celia – my wife – and I should have had our exchange, except I did not choose to speak.

The last time she addressed me there, she said, ‘I cannot wait all day to hear what you think –’ and she positioned herself near the door, while commenting on how to behave in marriage and in society in general, on how best to divide a man from his wife and a woman from her husband.

When my wife loved me, and when I thought so many people loved me because they said they did – oh, I wish for that way of life!

But that time is past. My friend Stitch – he even made clothes for me!

All I’d have to say is – ‘Can you make me a bathrobe, Stitch?’


Today I went alone to Kip’s Deli and I asked for the soup. It was sour and Kip shouted at the hostess, ‘He doesn’t even know how it’s supposed to taste!’

They tussled for position at the cash register as I left – while the hostess shouted, ‘Give him his money back, Kip!’

At the kerb, not at all far off – I saw Celia and her preferred companion.

She kept bunching her hair with both hands, then letting go of it. She also lifted it, squeezed it, threw it around, rummaged. She didn’t notice me.

A mountain we live near tilts upwards as it must. This is a bright outdoor scene. There are empty spaces. Trees also spring up. Their purpose, if I say so – they give me pleasure.

Sexually I have my feelings.

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