Again we are deluded and infer
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9) and do your ears quite suddenly and without warning burn red? Or do you,washing dishes, with the same clothes you wore two years ago rotting underyour armpits, still talk about the visigoths to your oh so pathetic self and divinenothing? I put you in a book because a girl with pale blonde hair and an adenoidal andentirely charming nasal twang to her voice told me about you one night. The girland I had been eating grapes in the twilight at the enamel kitchen table, and theplanes of her face suddenly were growing darker, and I could hardly see her, but still we didn't move to turn on the light. Two years ago you didn't change your clothes, and stood in the doorway of theold hotel, watching from afar a girl named Ann, with pale wet silver hair,walking alone in the night beside Lake George. Acrid with the stench of dried sweat were your clothes, and your long slickoily black hair, and your hands were puffed and creased, soft and unhealthilywhite from the hot steaming dishwater. Tell me (for I know you), do your ears burn red?
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