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I shook my head

“Souessed

“Dead, yes”

“Here we are Western Avenue I go north?”

“South” Toward Roy’s aparthtn’t I s in the hall like an unseen curtain? And his work me away like a piece of wrecked furniture?

I shivered and rode, wondering if and when I would ever grow up I listened to my insides and heard:

The sound of breaking glass

My parents had died a long time back and their deaths seemed easy

But Roy? I could never have irief you could drown in it

Now I feared to go back to the studio Th

e crazed architecture of all those countries nailed together, now falling to crush ined every southern plantation, each Illinois attic crammed withwith tenterhooked friends

The ift, the toy box with the papier-mâché flesh and death-maddened face, lay on the taxicab floor

Rustle-tap-whisper

A thunderclap shook my chest

“No, driver!” I said “Turn here To the ocean To the sea”