@@@@@Then I went back to the ship, not thinking,
@@@@@Then I went back to the ship,
not thinking, just putting a series of angular
black lines on my paper
When I was done, it was almost full dark
86
To the left, the three palms clattered
Below and beyond me - but not so far beyond now,
the tide was coming back in - the Gulf of Mexico
sighed, as if it had had a long day and there was
more work to do yet
Overhead there were now thousands of stars, and
more appearing even as I looked
This was here all the time, I thought, and
recalled something Melinda used to say when she
heard a song she really liked on the radio: It had
me from helloBelow my rudimentary tanker, I
scratched the word HELLO in small lettersSo far
as I can remember (and I'm better at that now), it
was the first time in my life I named a picture
And as names go, it's a good one, isn't it? In
spite of all the damage that followed, I still
think that's the perfect name for a picture drawn
by a man who was trying his best not to be sad
anymore - who was trying to remember how it felt
to be happyI put my pencil down, and that was
when Big Pink spoke to me for the first timeIts
voice was softer than the sigh of the Gulf's
breathing, but I heard it quite well just the same
87
I've been waiting for you, it said
vi
That was my year for talking to myself, and
answering myself backSometimes other voices
answered back as well, but that night it was just
me, myself, and I
"Houston, this is Freemantle, do you copy,
Houston?" Leaning into the fridgeThinking,
Christ, if this is basic staples, I'd hate to see
what it would look like if the kid really decided
to load up - I could wait out World War III
"Ah, roger, Freemantle, we copy
"Ah, we have bologna, Houston, that's a go on the
bologna, do you copy?"
"Roger, Freemantle, we read you loud and clear
What's your mayo situation?"
We were a go for mayo, tooI made two bologna
sandwiches on white - where I grew up, children
are raised to believe mayonnaise, bologna, and
white bread are the food of the gods - and ate
them at the kitchen tableIn the pantry I found a
stack of Table Talk Pies, both apple and blueberry
88
I began to think of changing my will in favor of
Jack Cantori
Almost sloshing with food, I went back to the
living room, snapped on all the lights, and looked
at HelloBut it was
interestingThe scribbled afterglow had a sullen,
furnacey quality that was startling