THIS STARTLING DIMENSION
Conjuring up flight is easy;
it's the landing part where it
gets difficult. I have a notion
to do it all myself - a sort of
self-serve doctor, if you will.
I can soar, but watch that door.
The station at Willoughby seemed
easier than this : getting off with
the semblance of a bicycle and
rage. In the old doctor's office
was a skeleton on a rack. It
looked right, at first, but to my
modern sensibilities something
was off. He wouldn't say, the old
Doc, but I kept asking - why
are the tips of those bones all
battered and broken off? 'Musket
fire,' was all he said. And then
a few minutes later, he turned
to me, to say again, 'If you
must know, they're hard to
get. We picked him up off
the battlefield at Lafayette.'
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