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tilation, waste removal The trouble is that, whatever her teachers think, your minotaur is clever, so very clever It must be a maze, then, you will say to the new cabinets So that she will not be able to find her way out You will hollow out your base, walls, steel doors Tell the school ad her to a special institution in Switzerland They will understand, of course, and clasp your hands with moist eyes You will build her a bookshelf, its contents carefully rationed Nothing on demolition, or architecture A few Greek plays, because you have a sense of humor, after all Her favorite toys Her dolls And the day you lock her in you will tell her you love her, that you only want to protect her You will hug your child for the last time, and slide the bolt shut

Years later, when guests come for cocktails and quiche, you will play loudof her fists against the ceiling of herwith violin to cover her screahter? You will say: I don’t knohat you mean We have two sons That’s all we’ve ever had Every year on her birthday you will put a cake on the landing Maybe—I wouldn’t want to speculate—once in awhile, every seven years, say, you’ll send down a girl who loves horses, or a quarterback

But I stand before you today—do not lose hope My people are accustoiven ive you Every minotaur must meet her labyrinth It is inevitable, like oracles, or cancer It is possible, just possible, that after you die quietly in bed, your grandchildren all around you, and only a few of thelazed eyes and their hair too carefully arranged, as if to hide so, that realtors will come to assess your property They will open all the doors and s, air out the hallways Of course they will discover the basement They will marvel at the craftsmanship—what love, they will say, what love was put into this thing! And they will slide the steel bolt aside With flashlights they will venture down the stairs, and one of them—maybe his name will be Thomason, maybe Thaddeus, maybe Theresa He will realize quickly that he needs help, and unwind a long clew oftape behind him as he ventures into the concentric circles you built for her, so long ago

And he will find her, standing in the center of the place, near the boiler, naked, tall, her hair long and —the lifetis will be thin, but they will be legs Her skin will be so pale, without the sun, but there will be no fur Her horns, though, those will not have gone She will need to wear hats for the rest of her life, likeit, the usual way, even in the dark She will have h it And she will step forward, toward Thomason or Thaddeus or Theresa, and she will say very clearly and calmly, in a deep, sweet voice:

“I proirl”

The Shoot-Out at Burnt Corn Ranch Over the Bride of the World

The End

I don’t know , but in the end it was just the Wizard of Los Angeles and the Wizard of New York and the shoot out at the Burnt Corn Ranch They walked off their paces; the eles and I sa it all went down because I was there, hiding under the bar in the Gnaw Hollow Saloon with my fist between my teeth Now you may call me a coward and I’ll have to wear that, but I’m a coho lived, and that’s worth a drink if it’s worth two

Robert and Pauline

Now, as I recollect it, the Wizard of Los Angeles sold his na bell and a crate of scotch the likes of which, god willing and the dead don’t rise, you and I will never taste I hear that scotch has no label I hear it tastes like a burning heart I hear it’s served at the Devil’s own table, distilled by Judas Iscariot and aged in a black bull’s skull

The Wizard of New York traded her name for a train she could fit in her pocket, a horse with two hearts, a dress like the fall of Lucifer, and a satchel of tobacco coiant’s bones New York was always the better haggler, and that’s a deal you only get to make once

You gotta do soet rid of theame with a name someone could just call you, out in the open, like Robert or Pauline People like that, you can find them on a map You can book them tickets and put a tax on them Robert and Pauline couldn’t of done what those two did Robert and Pauline have a nice little spread out Montana way Pauline’s butter is just the sweetest you ever had Robert never breaks his word, that’s just the kind of guy he is

Come on That ain’t how it runs The Wizard of New York don’t churn her own cream

Anyway, at least they both got horses out of it

A Coupla Rules