Dreams of a center column, cracked leather and nicotine stain. Fast forward: another town, another city really, color television burned to the afternoon game. Tight foyer, space torn from what bank stands derelict. It's Thursday. I'm ticking off on fingers the short list of those who know I'm here, men first, then women. Dull carp of the viewer's flesh. Plaster sexton, nightmare for shepherds. Salesmen assure each dark couple this river won't rise. For every Kosovo let there be a Star Wars, for every madam a mite. The guards there all smoked Lucky Strikes. Strange mercy in all sweetness: single apple ripening on a wooden sill (crisp flesh, stark vein). Dew on the suckle, honey on the dew. Facep(l)aint and vinegar. Mary and her stuttering bride.