From a goodbye letter
by a girl named
Lucero in Cuernavaca
in the early 1960’s:
“Si me de veras quieres,
deja me en paz.”
(See Shining Forth.)
Natasha Richardson,
Martha Quinn,
Frances Fisher —
remind me of
|
The Sprite and the Synergist Three drinks later he was suddenly inspired. “What I need right now is a girl to lose myself in. That’s the only way to wait for a pattern to show.”
One of his reciprocal Rogues (he had a dozen alternate selves) answered, “Feel free, but you left your big red book in the workshop.” “Why, for jigjeeze sake, can’t I have the little black book, famed in song and story?” “Why can’t you remember a phone number? Never mind. Shall we join the ladies?” He made three calls, all negative. He had three more drinks, all positive. He stripped, went to his Japanese bed in the monk’s cell, thrashed, swore, and slept at last, dreaming crazed p a t t e r n s |