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By Root 6117 0

a shoulder to get the blanket up and keep out the cold, think of me. If you look up the Liffey under a low sky in setting sun you're in heaven. My dreams of collecting the ha'pennies on the metal bridge. Miss Frost Pure as the driven snow. White as the North Pole. And buttocks a trifle soft. And why, Lilly, did you want me to do it this way? I've tried to be a member of Christian society, for I am a Calvinist at heart, with one or two reservations of course. And I've been a bit puritanical watching out for the improperly dressed and those coarse of accent, for what else is there if one doesn't keep one's place. And we're all within a stone's throw of heaven. O happy humping ground. And even the day I took a look around the Municipal Museum of Modern Art saying to myself by jove this is a jolly good show. Yes, suggestive pictures. With the things there that are displayed in flesh tint. Is this to confound conception, Lilly? And done by all the farm folk. In zoos too. I love the Zoological Museum. Learned all about the Irish Elk with it standing just in the entrance way with antlers from one wall to the other. And stuffed fish and birds around Ireland. And an Irish Wolfhound nicely stuffed too. And upstairs a whale hanging in the middle of the room with a balcony all round where they have this thing evolution displayed with the bugs getting bigger and bigger. I prefer to feel that Big Chief up there started us with Adam and Eve.

Miss Frost's hair has its pleasures and a light green smell. A down on the back of her neck. A slim neck. I could easily choke her to death. She looks broader from the back. From the front there are those two distractions. Distance grows shorter with familiarity. I'm acquainted with the facts. Good pair of shoulders built for work. Been a little dream boat of mine that if Marion drowned on the mail boat, Miss Frost would live with me and would go to work in the garden out back. Dig it all up and lace it liberally with lime and phosphates with mounds of kelp mixed with ould bones and guts laced with dead leaves all of it rotting graciously making a nice gooey compost Visions of Miss Frost laying down the seed. Especially the spuds. Some think it a dumb vegetable. Not me. Like the lion, king of them all. I would have helped Lilly sow the potatoes although I don't like to use my hands too much. Pour on the rot now. And a little chicken dropping will do no harm. Why does food make so much money in my dreams?

"Lilly, why did you want me to do it this way?"

"O Mr. Dangerfield, it's so much less of a sin."

And

Fun

Too.

23

He was dreaming.

Choosing the blue socks and then a pair of red ones. They were made of this material nylon. Wear forever. And stand up by themselves and as they say, walk away. I'm in these narrow streets and into one shop and out of another. Here is a woman who is middle aged and plump. Flump, ripe plum. Standing behind the counter telling me she loved foreigners. And I'm filling my bag with millions of socks. And can't get them out of the shop. And they call a waste truck to take them all away. Hear a sound which puts the shudder of fear through me. I think of a rat.

His back was stiff. He stood up. His eyes tight with sleep. They don't ever let you sleep enough. And my body is so cold.

Miss Frost turned over. He went to her and kissed her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Don't touch me."

"What?"

"Don't kiss me."

"For Christ's sake, what's the matter? Are you drunk? God damn it."

"O don't carry on. You walk out of here and leave the scourge of the tongue on me."

"Now, what is it ? Lilly, I say."

"You're well away."

"God damn it, what's the matter?"

"You've no worry. Off on the boat. I can't help it. They know."

"Who knows?"

"They'll be talking."

"If you're eating. Don't worry about the talk."

"That's easy"

"Now, now, let me get you a little something. Can I fry you a sausage? It's the meat, me Lill, forget ould talk, and tongues"

''Mrs, Dangerfield will have me in the courts"

"She won't have you anywhere. Do you want a sausage?"

"She will And they'll fire