"Yes as a matter of fact he is. And happens to be a college graduate, something you're not."
"This is a problem of yours Shirl. Take it on the train with you."
"And that ghoulish monumentis going to be stopped."
"And I'm going to tell you perhaps for the last time, you're being fed, clothed and housed."
"Don't use that even voice with me. Save your precision for Matilda, you'll need it getting in there."
"This way please."
"O you big shit. You shit. Phoney. We'll get an injunction."
"My advice Shirl is to stay away from the law. It can grind both ways."
"You're not scaring me."
"And I assure you I'm not paying to have it grind me."
"We'll see."
"We may. Meanwhile you've enough money to hire some college kids if you need a quick one."
Shirl lunging forward, slapping Smith across the face. Moving a knee up to pound him in the privates. Smith neatly blocking with a deft thigh. She runs. Clicking across the floor of the foyer. Having caught the side of George's face with one lash of her claw. And a vase with one blossom of the wax dogwood flower. Held above Shirl's head and thrown. And a bark. Matilda. On all fours. Naked. One could charge admission to this zoo. Door slamming. Wince. One more crack sent through Merry Mansions. Smith shouting.
"Get out. Get out of here. Just get out. All of you get out. Stay out. And leave me alone."
Smith in his dark suit. Giving Matilda traffic directions back to her room. Didn't last long at her heaven. Once more step over shattered pieces of delf. And go and sit with a bottle of whisky. Lever off the silvery cap. Put it to the lips. Pour it down the throat. This time of year gives everyone a chance to pass out insult, and if possible, injury. The things that come out on Christmas eve. I beg your pardon. When so many things seem to happen. And you want to cry O God. Sent to a new world. With a father and mother dead in the old. Where all will grow over in white flowered bramble. Sink slowly in bog and be covered by the waves. Tinker people lined the roads. With fires at night. My father kept a hay fork leaning near the door to give them a pike in the ass if they got fresh near evening because that countryside was terrifying after dark. By day once when I was passing on my horse. A blond woman with gleaming eyes beckoned. Nodded towards the bushes and raised her brows, I was a child king who owned all the land. Get down and do something with her. A little awkward with the garb I was geared in. To mix my blood with road louts. But she was young. A woman. And dirty. But hair golden. She said come lay, hush now, with me. Fluttered her dress, held it wide with pretty dots and bows. Covered too, in horseshit. How can I risk my thin fingers with her strong bones. Tangling in the briars. In the yellow hair. And she turned away, aloof. Head high and haughty. And I got down because I thought I was no prince and this woman would do something strange. Something I had never heard of and young as I was I had sifted out a lot of information. She ran. Ducked under a wire in the hedge. And down the field and into the tall standing hay. I thought, Christ the fanner will kill us trampling this. She played with her pink blouse. And blue buttons. Laughed and pushed me back as I got close. Till I tried to grab. Like falling into my own grave. My God how are her teeth. From here you could see the sea. She sang close to my ear. All the fright and fear she blew away. Christ if someone sees us. Got to do it, to begin life. She put her lips there and tasted me. Slowly gently just like the sailing vessel I could see beating its way up the shore this summer time and her voice so low and friendly.
I gave
Her
The young
Horn
She said.
As the
Grazing
Was
Green.
7
ON a day when winter was ending. On a promontory near a dead end of street pushing out into