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You ask me what since we must part You shall bring back to me. Bring back a pure and faithful heart As true as mine to thee. You talk of gems from foreign lands, Of treasure, spoil, and prize. Ah love! I shall not search your hands But look into your eyes.

when aliens come to the earth they will land on top of gigantic mountains they will see the people everywhere each alien will communicate telepathically with another alien on the opposite side of the sphere that is its clone and itself at the same time like an atom in quantum physics the same alien in two places at once and this multiplied by millions on top of gigantic mountains 'the strategy is to destroy humans' each alien will tell itself and its clone humans will understand this strategy once the killing started, immediately happening in two places on opposite ends of the world at once, an alien and itself murdering two humans by looking at their faces then that happening repeatedly or something for some amount of time the humans falling over and their faces hitting the pavement or the carpet, or the grass or the side of a coffee table on some dog shit * there will be resistance soldiers on all parts of the earth will fight with lasers citizen militias will hold resistance meetings a resistance against death a no-death resistance a movement for death later a movement for a different, still-uncontrollable death 'humans don't want to die this way' will be their manifesto, one sheet of paper or a piece of cardboard or something * there will be humans in basements looking at each other wandering, solitary humans that want more to find another human than to avoid dying solitary, severely depressed and/or enlightened humans that commit suicide by seeking out alien faces and looking at them; these humans may feel happy inside an insane nervous breakdown humans that kill other humans because they feel insane humans that sit in a corner, feeling extremely small, maybe considering intense killing rampages/some indefinable, positive emotion for humanity humans that watch tv, use the internet to read the newspaper, and drive their cars around; they will be motionless on couches with their eyes open * the fish and insects and trees will have the ocean and the forest pretty sure they won't care

Only open homes & woods & pansies’ blue ledges can lead the zero with his only arms to embrace himself in open fields for all to gape upon. He unbuttons steel-gray sheets, a knotted top coat, bares himself, his hole, a vision as framed by the marker that is where his body blew and left enclosure intact, skeletal innards enough to make moviegoers ask, “Has anyone finished themselves yet?” I haven’t. I swim the lagoon, take note: the babies are barely dirty, their armpits smooth with silky soot weighted in apartment cycles like we keep movement in boxes for thunderstorms, and the railroad leaves a dancing behavior absorbed by every second thought, escaping the socket that was his mission, his body incomplete, to help us to the maidenhead of Niagara, a target awakening the chlorophyll of trees, their tongues the densest forest canopy and floor thigh deep with root rot we sleep on and fold into growing-whole sheep what becomes of the lot: night’s zero hour of what is & what isn’t, till death, not us part.

To keep anxiety at bay, my friend called chemo dragonfly love. Those insects — christened, in places, the devil’s darning needles — hover as they contort their joined bodies into a heart, the male with pincers. Finger cutter, horse killer, ear stick, eye pisser.Look closely at the eyes of a female darner and you may well see dark puncture marks. As a slow drip through an IV. As a pill. Through a port into a vein. She called nausea erotica. Just the same, we name our storms to lessen them — 
not a tropical cyclone, but Arabella, with ballet shoes and bun. Tumors, too, were friends, waiting at the bus stop with backpacks in the morning. Cindy French braids Carrie’s hair, yanking at the scalp to form the tight crisscross. Not hair loss, but deep conditioning. She gave us the new lexicon on stationery embossed with a red rose speckled by raindrops. The stem still had its thorns. Ring-around-the-rosy, red rover, red rover, send her right over. She called death the world of10,000things: the dragon courting its damsel, catheter tubing in the wastebin, video of a toddler biting his brother, pas de deux, full-
sugar ice cream, Crimson Queen, Trumpeter, Red Knockout, Tuscany Superb  ...    I knew her as Rose Shapiro. At the funeral I learned she was born Passalacqua: to cross the river, to pass a glass of water.

i The Story of him who knew the most of all men know; who made the journey; heartbroken; reconciled; who knew the way things were before the Flood, the secret things, the mystery; who went to the end of the earth, and over; who returned, and wrote the story on a tablet of stone. He built Uruk. He built the keeping place of Anu and Ishtar. The outer wall shines in the sun like brightest copper; the inner wall is beyond the imagining of kings. Study the brickwork, study the fortification; climb the great ancient staircase to the terrace; study how it is made; from the terrace see the planted and fallow fields, the ponds and orchards. This is Uruk, the city of Gilgamesh the Wild Ox, son of Lugalbanda, son of the Lady Wildcow Ninsun, Gilgamesh the vanguard and the rear guard of the army, Shadow of Darkness over the enemy field, the Web, the Flood that rises to wash away the walls of alien cities, Gilgamesh the strongest one of all, the perfect, the terror. It is he who opened passes through the mountains; and he who dug deep wells on the mountainsides; who measured the world; and sought out Utnapishtim beyond the world; it is he who restored the shrines; two-thirds a god, one-third a man, the king. Go to the temple of Anu and Ishtar: open the copper chest with the iron locks; the tablet of lapis lazuli tells the story. ii There was no withstanding the aura or power of the Wild Ox Gilgamesh. Neither the father's son nor the wife of the noble; neither the mother's daughter nor the warrior's bride was safe. The old men said: "Is this the shepherd of the people? Is this the wise shepherd, protector of the people?" The gods of heaven listened to their complaint. "Aruru is the maker of this king. Neither the father's son nor the wife of the noble is safe in Uruk; neither the mother's daughter nor the warrior's bride is safe. The old men say: 'Is this the shepherd of the people? Is this the wise shepherd, protector of the people? There is no withstanding the desire of the Wild Ox.' " They called the goddess Aruru, saying to her: "You made this man. Now create another. Create his double and let the two contend. Let stormy heart contend with stormy heart that peace may come to Uruk once again." Aruru listened and heard and then created out of earth clay and divine spittle the double, the stormy-hearted other, Enkidu, the hairy-bodied wild man of the grasslands, powerful as Ninurta the god of war, the hair of his head like the grain fields of the goddess, naked as Sumuqan the god of cattle. He feeds upon the grasslands with gazelles; visits the watering places with the creatures whose hearts delight, as his delights, in water. iii One day a hunter came to a watering place and saw Enkidu; he stood expressionless, astonished; then with his silent dogs he went home to his father's house, fear in his belly. His face was as one estranged from what he knows. He opened his mouth and said to his father: "Father, I saw a hairy-bodied man today at the watering place, powerful as Ninurta the god of war; he feeds upon the grasslands with gazelles; he visits the watering places with the beasts; he has unset my traps and filled my hunting pits; the creatures of the grasslands get away free. The wild man sets them free. Because of him I am no longer a hunter." His father said: "Go to Uruk and there present yourself to Gilgamesh the king, who is the strongest of all, the perfect, the terror, the wise shepherd, protector of the people. Tell him about the power of the wild man. Ask him to send a harlot back with you, a temple prostitute, to conquer him with her greater power. When he visits the watering place, let her show him her breasts, her beauty, for his wonder. He will lie with her in pleasure, and then the creatures, the gazelles with whom he feeds upon the grasslands, and the others with whom he visits the watering places, will flee from him who ranged the hills with them." So the hunter went to Gilgamesh in Uruk and told him about the power of the wild man, and how he had unset the traps and filled the pits, so that the creatures got away free. The lord of Uruk said to the hunter then: "When you return, a temple prostitute will go with you and with her beauty conquer the wild man. He will lie with her and then the gazelles with whom he feeds upon the grasslands, and the others with whom he visits the watering places, will flee from him who ranged the hills with them." iv The harlot and the hunter traveled together, taking three days, back to the watering place. For three more days they waited, and finally Enkidu came with the creatures that love the water, the gazelles and the others, so as to drink their fill. The temple prostitute looked at him, Enkidu, the hairy-bodied wild man of the grasslands, the hair of his head like the grain fields of the goddess, naked as Sumuqan the god of cattle. "That is Enkidu, Shamhat, show him your breasts, show him your beauty. Spread out your cloak on the ground. Lie down on it. The wild man will look at you. Show him your body. The hairy-bodied man will come to you and lie down on you; and then show him the things a woman knows how to do. The gazelles and with them all the other creatures will flee from him who ranged the hills with them." And so the harlot, Shamhat, showed him her breasts, showed him her body. The hairy-bodied man came over to her, and lay down on her, and then she showed him the things a woman knows how to do. For seven days Enkidu in his wonder lay with her in pleasure, and then at last went to seek out the company of the creatures whose hearts delight in feeding upon the grasslands, and visiting the watering places, and ranging the hills. But seeing him, they fled. The creatures were gone, and everything was changed. His body that loved to range the hills was now unable to follow; but in the mind of the wild man there was beginning a new understanding. Bewildered, he turned, and sought out the company of the temple prostitute. He sat down beside her, and looked into her face, and listened to her: "Enkidu, now you are beautiful as a god. Why do you seek the company of beasts? Come with me to the city, to Uruk, to the temple of Anu and the goddess Ishtar. Gilgamesh is the ruler, the strongest of all, the terror. The aura and power of his desire can be withstood by no one." Then Enkidu, whose heart was beginning to know about itself and longed for a companion, cried aloud: "Take me to Uruk, the city of Gilgamesh, whose aura and power cannot be withstood. I will cry out in Uruk, challenging him: 'It is I, Enkidu. The strength of the wild man born in the wilderness cannot be withstood.' " The temple prostitute replied: "Come then to Uruk, where the processions are, and music, and let us go together through the dancing to the palace hall where Gilgamesh presides, the favorite of the gods, the beautiful, strongest of all, the terror, the most desired. Look at his radiant face, the favorite of Shamash and Enlil, Ea, and Anu. While you were grazing beastlike with gazelles, before your mind had any understanding, his mind, a gift to the gifted of the gods, had a dream of you before you knew of him. In the early morning Gilgamesh arose and told his mother his dream: 'I had a dream. A star fell from the heavens, a meteorite, and lay on the empty plain outside Uruk. The men and women came and wondered at it. I strove with it to lift it but could not. I was drawn to it as if it was a woman.' All-knowing Rimat-Ninsun spoke to him, the lord of Uruk, Gilgamesh. His mother, All-knowing Rimat-Ninsun, spoke and said: "The star that fell from the heavens, the meteorite that lay on the empty plain outside Uruk, the star you could not lift when you strove with it, the star you were drawn to as if drawn to a woman, is the strong companion, powerful as a star, the meteorite of the heavens, a gift of the gods. That you were drawn to it as if drawn to a woman means that this companion will not forsake you. He will protect and guard you with his life. This is the fortunate meaning of your dream.' Then Gilgamesh the lord of Uruk said: 'May the dream as you interpret come to pass.' " The temple prostitute thus told the tale.

i Gilgamesh spoke and said to the old man then: "When I looked at you I thought that you were not a man, one made like me; I had resolved to challenge you as one might challenge a demon, a stranger-adversary. But now I see that you are Utnapishtim, made like me, a man, the one I sought, the one from whom I might find out how death can be avoided. Tell me then, father, how it came about that you were admitted to the company of gods, who granted you eternal life." The father Utnapishtim spoke and said: "I will tell Gilgamesh the king the story; a secret of the gods I will disclose. There was an ancient city, Shuruppak— you know of it—most fortunate of cities, god-favored, on the banks of the Euphrates. The gods in heaven decided in their council to bring the flood down on the fortunate city. They sat in secret council together, deciding. Anu was there, the councilor Enlil, Ninurta of the Silence, and there also was the god Ennugi, monitor of canals. And there was Ea, cleverest of the gods. The voice of Ea telling me the secret came whispering through the reed walls of my house: 'You reed house walls, listen and hear me whisper; listen and be attentive to what I tell you. Utnapishtim, son of Ubartutu, abandon your house, abandon what you possess, abandon your house and build a boat instead. Seek life instead of riches, save yourself. Take with you, on the boat you build, an instance of each thing living so that they may be safe from obliteration in the flood. Perform the construction of the boat with care. Let the length of the boat and the width of the boat be equal. Roof over the boat as the abyss is roofed.' The whispering voice spoke through the rustling walls: You reed house walls, listen and hear what I say.' I listened and heard and spoke to the whispering voice: 'I hear what you say. What will I tell the others? What will I tell the old men and the people?' Ea the god whispered to me, his servant: 'Tell them you can no longer live in the city, because you are out of favor with Enlil. The city is the city of Enlil, and therefore Utnapishtim, whom he hates, must find another domicile and another god who will be his patron and protector, and you have therefore decided to depart from Shuruppak and seek another home. Tell them Ea the god will be your patron, whose domicile is Apsu the abyss. Under the roof of Apsu is where you go. As for the city, fortunate Shuruppak, in the morning dawning, abundance will then rain down: there will be plenty, a flood of bounty, the city teeming with heaven's profusion, game birds falling, fishes unheard-of before in song or story, tumbling loaves of fresh-baked morning bread; grain will come showering in from all the grain fields; a harvest of everything, yes, more than enough. These are the things to tell the elders and people.' ii "In the first hours of the early morning dawning, all the people came out for the boat-building, the little children, the weak as well as the strong, everyone carrying something: asphalt, and oil, and pitch, the best of timber with which to build. Day after day I labored building the boat. Ten times a dozen cubits were the walls; ten times a dozen cubits was each deck. There were six decks; the cabin was divided into nine compartments. I made up the plans; I drew a picture of them for our guidance. I hammered the boat together, and plugged the holes with water plugs to keep the water out. I made the bitumen pitch in the pitch kiln, three sar of bitumen pitch to caulk the hull and, to be certain, three sar to caulk the inside. I counted punting poles and put them aboard; I had the basket bearers stow the supplies of oil and foodstuffs, everything I needed. As for the people who came to help in the work each day was like a New Year's holiday: I slaughtered sheep and bullocks for their feasting; for drinking there was wine and beer, plenty, as if there was a river overflowing. On the seventh day I finished building the boat. I opened a bowl of ointment for my hands. I commanded the loading of everything I owned that could be carried, silver, and gold, and all the instances of living things to be saved from obliteration in the flood; and all my household people I took with me. At sunset on that day I launched the boat. The launching was very hard to manage. It took much shifting and much maneuvering on the ways to get the unwieldy boat down into the river, and two-thirds of its weight under the water in order to prevent it from capsizing. As darkness was coming on I heard the god: 'Abundance will rain down, more than enough! Get yourself inside, and close the hatch!' I saw the signs of morning in the sky. 'Abundance will rain down, more than enough!' I got myself inside, and closed the hatch. To Puzuramurri the caulker, who, outside, caulked up the hatch with pitch, I gave my house. iii "In the early hours of the next morning dawning there was the noise of Adad in the clouds that rose and filled the morning sky with blackness. Shullat the herald of the dread Adad moved out over the mountains and over the valleys, bellowing; Hanish the herald of the dread Adad moved over the plains and over the cities; everything turned to darkness as to night. From time to time the Annunaki blazed terrible light. Then rain came down in floods. Beneath, the god of the Underworld, Nergal, broke down his own doorposts and opened the earth. Ninurta god of chaos and of war opened the dikes, and other floods burst forth. The South Wind rushed in flooding over the mountains. Brother could not see brother in the welter; none of the gods in heaven could see the earth; the land was shattered like a shattered pot; confusions of dread Adad were everywhere. Terrified gods got themselves up as high as they could go, nearest the highest heaven, cringing against the wall like beaten dogs. Ishtar cried out like a woman in her birth pangs, the sweet-voiced lady cried: "The days that were have now become as featureless as clay because of what I said when I went to the gods in heaven, bringing calamity down on those whom now the sea engulfs and overwhelms, my children who are now the children of fish.' The Annunaki sat and wept with her, the cowering gods wept, covering their mouths. Six days and nights the storm went on this way, the South Wind flooding over the mountains and valleys until the seventh day when the storm birth labor subsided at last, the flood subsided at last. I opened the hatch. The daylight touched my face. I looked outside. Nothing was moving at all. It looked as flat as a flat clay roof looks flat; and all the human beings had turned to clay. I fell to my knees and wept. The tears ran down the sides of my nose. I wept in the total silence. I looked outside and looked as far as I could, trying to find, looking across the world, something. And then, far off, something was there. What looked like signs of an island could faintly be seen; and then the boat was caught and held from under by the peak rock of a mountain under the water. It was Mount Nisir the boat was grounded on. A first day it was held, and a second day; a third day the boat was held from under, and a fourth day, and a fifth; a sixth day, and then on the seventh day I freed a dove. The dove flew free and flew away from the boat, seeking a place for its little feet to alight, and finding none, flew back to the boat to perch. I freed a swallow then and it flew free and flew away from the boat, seeking a place for its little feet to alight, and finding none, flew back to the boat to find a place to alight. I freed a raven then and it flew free and flew away from the boat, and never returned. It had found a place to alight, and circled about the place, and alighted, and settled itself, and ate, and never after that returned to the boat. Then I set free all the other birds in the boat and they flew free, scattering to the winds. iv "I went ashore and offered a sacrifice. I poured out a libation; I set out seven vessels of offerings on a stand, and then set seven more; I made a fire of wood of myrtle, wood of cane, and wood of cedar. I lit the fire. The odor touched the nostrils of the Igigi gods and gave them pleasure. I slaughtered a sheep to make a sacrifice; the gods collected like flies about the altar. The great goddess progenitrix Ishtar came down from heaven wearing about her neck the pendant Anu gave her for her adornment, of lapis lazuli ornately made. She said: 'Just as this pendant never shall forgotten be by the goddess, so the goddess never will forget calamitous days. The gods may come to the ritual but forbidden is the presence of Enlil, by whose command the flood was peremptorily brought down on the heads of all my children, engulfing them.' When the god Enlil came to the sacrifice he saw the boat, and the sight filled him with rage. He spoke in anger to the gathered gods: 'How is it that one man has saved himself? No breath of life was meant to be kept safe from its obliteration in the flood.' Ninurta opened his mouth and said to the god: 'Ea, the cleverest of the gods, deviser, let Ea speak and give Enlil his answer.' Then Ea opened his mouth and said to the god: "The punishment should always fit the crime. Let him who has performed an evil act be punished for that act. Let not the flood be brought down on the heads of all for what one man has done; and he who has transgressed, show pity to him, lest he be cut off from all his fellows. Better that a lion should come into the village and prey upon it, taking a few, than that the flood drown all. Better a wolf should find its ravening way into the fold, devouring some, much better than that the flood turn all that breathes to clay. Better that famine starve a few of them than that a harvest of waters obliterate all. Better that Erra the plague god, better that he take hold of some, seize them and bear them away to the Underworld, than that the flood drown all. I did not tell the secret to the man. He listened to the wind and guessed the secret. Let the gods sitting in council now decide how to reward the wise man for his wisdom.' The god Enlil then went on board the boat. He took me by the hand and made me kneel; he took my wife by the hand and made her kneel. The god then touched our foreheads, blessing us, and said: 'You were but human; now you are admitted into the company of gods. Your dwelling place shall be the Faraway, the place which is the source of the outflowing of all the rivers of the world there are.' And so they led us to the Faraway, the place we dwell in now, which is the source of all the rivers flowing through the world." Then scornful Utnapishtim said to the king: "Tell me, who would bring all the gods together so that for you they might in council decide what your deserving is, that you be granted admittance into the company of gods? Let there be now a test of Gilgamesh. Let him but keep himself awake for a week, six nights and seven days, to show his worth." So Gilgamesh sat down to begin the test. v Almost as soon as Gilgamesh the king sat down to test himself, a mist of sleep, as ocean mist comes over the shore from the waters, came over his eyes, and so the strongest slept. Then Utnapishtim spoke to his wife and said: "See how this hero sleeps who asks for life. As ocean mist blows over the land from the waters, so the mist of sleep comes over the eyes of the king." The wife of Utnapishtim answered him: "Touch and awaken him, so that he may return in safety to his native city, entering through the gate of his departure." But Utnapishtim said: "Man is deceitful. Therefore he will deceive us. Every day, as he lies sleeping, you must bake a wafer and place the wafer near him, making a mark upon the nearby wall for every day this hero sleeps who seeks eternal life." She baked a wafer every day, of bread, for every day that Gilgamesh lay sleeping. The first wafer was dry as dust; the second only less so than the first; the third was soggy and rotten; the fourth wafer was white in the crust; there were spots of mold on the fifth; the sixth wafer looked almost as if it was fresh; and the seventh—Gilgamesh started and waked up as Utnapishtim touched him on the forehead. Gilgamesh said: "I had almost fallen asleep when you reached out and touched me and kept me awake." But Utnapishtim said to Gilgamesh: "Look at the wafers and look at the marks on the wall: a mark and a wafer for every day you have slept. The first wafer is dry as dust; the second is only less so than the first; the third is soggy and rotten; the fourth wafer is white in the crust; there are spots of mold on the fifth; the sixth wafer looks almost as if it is fresh; and the seventh—but it is then that you awoke." Then Gilgamesh said to him: "What shall I do? Who takes us away has taken hold of me. Death is in my chamber when I sleep; and death is there wherever I set foot." vi Utnapishtim said to the boatman then: "Though your delight has been to cross the waters, the harbor now is closed, the crossing forbidden. The waters and the shore now shun the boatman. The hairy-bodied man you brought across the perilous waters, wearing the skin of a beast that hides his beauty, let Urshànabi take him to the washing place. There let him wash his body, washing away the filth that hides his beauty. Manifest be the beauty of Gilgamesh. Take the skin of a beast he wore on the journey and throw it away in the sea. Let Gilgamesh bind up his shining hair with a new fillet. Let him put on a spotless festal robe. Let him return to his native city in honor in the royal garments appropriate to himself." The boatman led the king to the washing place. Gilgamesh washed his body, washing away the filth that obscured his beauty; then Urshànabi took the skin of a beast and threw it away. Manifest was the beauty of Gilgamesh. He bound up his shining hair with a new fillet; he put on a festal robe, utterly spotless, a royal garment appropriate to himself. Then he and the boatman boarded the little boat and the boat began to move away from the shore. But the wife of Utnapishtim said to her husband: "This man has undergone a terrible journey. What will you give him for his return to his city?" Gilgamesh, hearing, took up his punting pole and brought the little boat back to the shore. Utnapishtim spoke and said to him: "Gilgamesh, you who have made the terrible journey, what shall I give you for your return to your city?" Then Utnapishtim said to Gilgamesh: "A secret of the gods I will disclose. There is a plant that grows under the waters, thorny to seize, as a rose is thorny to seize. How-the-Old-Man-Once-Again-Becomes-a-Young-Man is the name of the plant that grows under the waters. Descend into the waters and seize the plant." So Gilgamesh tied heavy stone weights to his feet to bring him down through the waters of the abyss to the place where he could find the magic plant. He seized the thorny plant that cut his hands; he cut the stone weights loose from his heavy feet; and the waters cast him up upon the shore. vii Gilgamesh said to Urshànabi the boatman: "Urshànabi, this plant is a wonderful plant. New life may be obtained by means of it. I will carry the thorny plant back to my city. I will give some of the plant to the elders there, to share among them, telling them it is called How-the-Old-Man-Once-Again-Becomes-a-Young-Man. And I will take my share of the magic plant, once more to become the one who is youngest and strongest." viii At twenty leagues they stopped only to eat; at thirty leagues they stopped to rest for the night. Gilgamesh found a spring, a pool of pure water. He entered the water, to refresh himself. In the reeds nearby a serpent of the place became aware of the fragrance of the plant, breathed its perfume, desired it, and approached, and stole away with it among the reeds. As it disappeared the serpent shed its skin. When Gilgamesh found out what the serpent had done he sat down weeping by the pool of water. He took Urshànabi by the hand and said: "What shall I do? The journey has gone for nothing. For whom has my heart's blood been spent? For whom? For the serpent who has taken away the plant. I descended into the waters to find the plant and what I found was a sign telling me to abandon the journey and what it was I sought for." ix At twenty leagues they stopped only to eat. At thirty leagues they stopped to rest for the night. And so they traveled until they reached Uruk. There Gilgamesh the king said to the boatman: "Study the brickwork, study the fortification; climb the great ancient staircase to the terrace; study how it is made; from the terrace see the planted and fallow fields, the ponds and orchards. One league is the inner city, another league is orchards; still another the fields beyond; over there is the precinct of the temple. Three leagues and the temple precinct of Ishtar measure Uruk, the city of Gilgamesh."

The Professor and Ginger are standing in the space in front of the Skipper’s cabin. The Professor is wearing deck shoes, brushed denim jeans, and a white shirt open at the throat. Ginger is wearing spike heels, false eyelashes, and a white satin kimono. The Professor looks at her with veiled lust in his eyes. He raises an articulate eyebrow and addresses her as Cio-Cio-San. Ginger blanches and falls on her knife. * * * Meanwhile it is raining in northern California. In a tiny village on the coast, Rod Taylor and Tippi Hedren are totally concerned. They realize that something terrible is happening. Each has been savagely attacked by a wild songbird within the last twenty-four hours. Outside their window thousands of birds have gathered in anticipation of the famous school- yard scene. Tippi Hedren is wearing a colorful lipstick. * * * Ginger stares back at the Professor. His sullen good looks are the perfect foil for her radiant smile. The Skipper and Gilligan come into sight. The Skipper has been chasing Gilligan around the lagoon for a long time now. Gilligan holds onto his hat in the stupid way he has of doing things like that. The Professor’s lips part in a sneer of perfect contempt. Ginger bares her teeth, as if in appreciation. * * * Jackie Kennedy bares her teeth. Behind and above her, the muzzle of a high-powered rifle protrudes from a window. A little man is aiming at Jackie Kennedy’s husband. The man is wearing bluejeans and a white T-shirt. There isn’t a bird to be seen. As he squeezes the trigger, the little man mutters between clenched teeth, “Certs is a candy mint.” The hands of Jackie Kennedy’s husband jerk automatically toward his head. * * * The Professor is noticing Ginger’s breasts. He thinks of the wife he left at home, who probably thinks he’s dead. He thinks of his mother, and all of the women he has ever known. Mr. and Mrs. Howell are asleep in their hut, secure in their little lives as character actors. Ginger shifts her weight to the other foot. The intensity of the moment reminds the Professor of a Japanese city before the end of the war. * * * In his mind he goes down each aisle in his government class, focusing on each face, each body. He is lying on his bed with his white shirt off and his trousers open. Dorothy Kirsten’s voice fills the room. He settles on a boy who sits two desks behind him. He begins to masturbate, his body moving in time with the sad music. At moments like these he feels farthest away. As he shoots, his lips part and he bares his teeth. * * * The Professor and Ginger are watching each other across the narrow space. The Skipper and Gilligan have disappeared down the beach. The Howells are quietly snoring. The Professor and Ginger are alone. From the woods comes the sound of strange birds. From the water comes a thick and eerie tropical silence. The famous conversation scene is about to start. Clouds appear in the sky, and it begins to snow.

There’s a mystery By the river, in one of the cabins Shuttered with planks, its lock Twisted; a bunch of magazines flipped open, A body. A blanket stuffed with leaves Or lengths of rope, an empty gin bottle. Put down your newspaper. Look out Beyond the bluffs, a coal barge is passing, Its deck nearly Level with the water, where it comes back riding High. You start talking about nothing, Or that famous party, where you went dressed As a river. They listen, The man beside you touching his odd face In the countertop, the woman stirring tonic In your glass. Down the bar the talk’s divorce, The docks, the nets Filling with branches and sour fish. Listen, I knew a woman who’d poke a hole in an egg, suck It clean and fill the shell with gin, Then walk around all day disgusting people Until she was so drunk The globe of gin broke in her hand. She’d stay Alone at night on the boat, come back Looking for another egg. That appeals to you, rocking For hours carving at a hollow stone. Or finding A trail by accident, walking the bluff’s Face. You know, your friends complain. They say You give up only the vaguest news, and give a bakery As your phone. Even your stories Have no point, just lots of detail: The room Was long and bright, small and close, angering Gaston; They turned away to embrace him; She wore The color out of season, She wore hardly anything at all; Nobody died; Saturday. These disguises of omission. Like forgetting To say obtuse when you talk about the sun, leaving Off the buttons as you’re sewing up the coat. So, People take the little They know to make a marvelous stew; Sometimes, it even resembles you. It’s not so much You cover your tracks, as that they bloom In such false directions. This way friends who awaken At night, beside you, awaken alone.

~ remember just

Rub the entire block of SPAM*, along with the accompanying gelatinous goo, onto your wood furniture. The oils from the SPAM* moisturize the wood and give it a nice luster. Plus, you'll have enough left over to use as your own personal lubricant (a true Pacific dinner date). Why didn't you tell me about the "In Honor of Guam's Liberation" SPAM*! I'm trying to collect them all! Once I was on a diet and SPAM* faded from my consciousness. Then I met my future wife, who's Hawaiian, and SPAM* became part of my life again (a true Pacific romance). Maybe the economic downturn will help people appreciate SPAM* instead of loathing it. SPAM* doesn't have to be unhealthy; I eat SPAM* every day and I'm not dead, yet—just switch to SPAM* Lite. Despite rumors, SPAM* is NOT made of such odds and ends as hooves, ears, brains, native peoples, or whole baby pigs. The name itself stands for Specially Processed Army Meal, Salted Pork And More, Super Pink Artificial Meat, Snake Possum And Mongoose, or Some People Are Missing. My uncle is the reigning Guam SPAM* king. He won the last SPAM* cook off with his Spicy SPAM* meatballs. I will never forget the two-pound SPAM* bust of George Washington he made for Liberation Day, toasted crispy on the outside with raw egg yolk in the hollow center— the kids loved it! Only a fool would start a company in Guam that provides SPAM* protection. For Xmas, I bought a snow globe featuring a can of SPAM* sitting on an island. Turn it over and a typhoon swirls madly, unable to unseat SPAM* from its place of honor. I have a souvenir can I bought after seeing Monty Python's SPAM*ALOT on Broadway in New York City. It cost me $10 and is the most expensive SPAM* I've ever bought. I will never eat it.