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Show 66, Jeffries, Islamorada "Or before two or three of them throw you out." "I'm sure I wouldn't be the first. Okay we're agreed, but write about what? I mean, My Summer Vacation, or do I keep a journal-" "I think the summer vacations were formative. Back when you were a lifeguard. You could develop the obvious mythic theme, Narcissus at the pond-" "Row you're teasing." "Seriously, I can help. With the coming styles of new journalism, prose poetry; I'll take you out in the night where the poems are happening: Frogs, percussive Under the white heat of the moon I've got connections." * * * He could forget about the substitute teacher and the student teacher giving him the best year of their life. It was that new thing, sociobiology. Those young ladies wanted to pass on their genes. Or enjoy whatever facsimile of that adventure in there on their noisy bedsprings. Or out with their new men. Halloween. On an Indian summer night. Dory waits alone in the shabby apartment. A late last crowd of kids. A box-robot. A werewolf. A little skeleton-girl slipping away toward his back bedroom. Is it- |
