2075. OH ONION ONE

OH ONION ONE

Here I am again, reading Saul Bellow in the snow -

early morning, 6am, just when the snowflakes

begin. Dangling Man Seizes the Day? The windy

brush of flake and drift pushes long across the

estate-sized porch. The unused white rocking

chair makes its moves in isolation - no one sits,

no cigar smoke lingers, nothing in fact happens at

all. Just the snow and the wind as I pass, right

where the lawn, once green, stretched out before

it all. Now it too is white in pallor and white in

snow. A living memory of time and silence, a marker

for all things before it. I no longer know exactly who

it is I myself am : Henderson, Mr. Sammler, Herzog,

or even Delmore Schwartz. Too early to tell;

6am, just when the snowflakes begin.