Vendler, you've asked me if I ever had a friend besides Marenna,
besides my wife, brother and sister.
I did once.
I used to sit with him in an abandoned elevator
waiting for the ruby hour--I wore a white towel at my waist, a white towel
on my head, and he wore a burlap coat, a rope at his waist.
I was John the Baptist, he was St. Francis. The
elevator was that which shunted forth between heaven and hell. But the elevator
could not tell you if you went up or down. You shut the doors, waited for
the deep red button to glow. I used to go visit the junkyard but stopped
going after Mika died. The elevator, perhaps, is still there, rotting shut.
Mika died in a sanitarium. I wanted to clear this up before it was too late.
It is remarkable how individuals get mislaid over periods of time until
they bear no resemblance to their own flesh. I thought I could avoid talking
about him. But I can't. It seems I can never avoid him.
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