Where I went the fence was made of oats,
the streets were tar, and the small stores all
sold gold. Dizzy with sensation, I watched the
people pass. The guy from Princeton asked about
me, and I answered him rightly. Then he said he'd
'graduated' in 2012' - I'd asked when he 'got out.'
Bangor, Pennsylvania was the place, and is today.
The fuel pump was marked 'heating oil' - I guess
they can buy it by the gallon. We drove a while,
to the hardware store where I was looking for
paint and cables - found both. I told him to go
and I'd walk the way back. With a thanks, he left.
My walk back to town took me past the stonecarver's
place - gravestones in every corner, just waiting, I
guess. They don't much cut by knife or chisel anymore -
it's all laser'd and machine cut. But he was on his knees,
I watched, cutting a stone the old way. What was so
odd about it was this : he'd carved the lady's name,
Helen Whitnauer, or something like that, and was,
just beneath it, now involved in cutting in the
smaller words : 'nee Christ.' This is true,
and I'd never seen it before. I felt like
a stranger, on the road to Emmaus.