4354. NO ONE IS FAR AWAY

NO ONE IS FAR AWAY

'All my future's behind me,' said Joe with a laugh. 'Might

go down to Perth Amboy, get me a job in a munitions

factory, but I'd rather be blowed up in the open, you see?'

Black dog barking, outside my door. Carmelita in her mantilla

lace, sucking on an orange ice. Outside, on the street, two buses

roll by, one behind the other, both marked for the exact same

destination. No one gets on; but then again, no one gets off.

'Tell them to all go take a flying Rimbaud at the moon.'

-

Well, I wonder. What I wonder is how to read a letter;

written in black ink, scrawled almost sideways on a piece

of scratchy old paper. Like a side of Kong, or something.

A long, wrangling letter, one written by Andretta. I knew

her once when her dog was King. That was long ago.

Times has passed; I don't owe her a thing.

-

Now listen here, old tidy cake. This is the telephone

they've invented  -  you've got to turn the crank, hold the

earpiece here, and  -  yes, yes, OK  -  talk into this

thing here; no, no NOT like that! Talk regular, no

one is far away. I tell you this  -  no one is far away!