Thursday Leonard found another treasure inside the Free Library on 46th, a CD of sing-along songs. [The Free Library is a repurposed newspaper dispenser in which one can both leave and take books, an excellent example of the gift economy at work. This library was magical and Leonard always found something perfect there.] The CD was perfect because later that weekend he was taking a road trip with his family to Provincetown. On the way there they all got lost singing, “Good Night Irene”. They found themselves much later in Plymouth, staring at a rock. What did it all mean?
When I asked your advice, miss, you told the story of two mice who fell into a bowl of cream.
The mice had no choice but to tread milk or else. The first said, "'Why wait?” The second bid her to try, "Perhaps a better fate than this?” But the first mouse just gave up. She sunk into the bowl,
glup…glup…glup. The second mouse grit her teeth and swam with all her might, swam for all that mattered, and sure enough, miss, pretty soon that mouse had churned up all the cream
into a solid vat of butter.
Once upon a time my Skylark was broken into, my stereo stolen, and the only token left behind, forsaken, was a worn out Carhartt jacket, left perhaps because the thief was in a hurry, or got interrupted by a scary sound and scurried away without coat to sell my stereo on so cold a night to buy some crack, maybe, leaving a warm jacket in exchange for a high. I wear the Carhartt everywhere now, as if I got a steal, the better deal, and it looks good too, blue, a little ripped, functional hood, halfway unzipped.