Over the Atlantic on the long approach to Kennedy Simon saw a hundred miles of garbage in the water, from the air white floating scruff. The water became agitated at points as fish attacked the garbage and Simon turned his mind to compaction. When they landed he kissed the German woman goodbye and told her that although she probably didn’t feel very lucky at the moment, she was very lucky.
“I got to go away now,” Dore says. “I got to leave this place.”
“I gots to make mah mark in de whirl,” says Veronica.
“The prophet Zephaniah appeared to me in a dream,” Anne says. “He said, Split! Split!”
“Time boogies on,” Dore says.
They are gathered by the door with much duffel. Aspects of optimistic gloom.
” ‘Bye guys,” Simon says.
They lurch through the door.
Q: Maybe they’ll come back.
A: No, no. Of course not. Why should they?
Q: Do you want them to come back?
A: I have peculiar dreams. But I sleep very well, on balance.
Q: How many hours a night?
A: Four or five.
Q: Some people like Giacometti. As a sculptor. Although I suppose it’s foolish to speak of “liking” Giacometti. Armature with impetigo. He’s not about women.
A: Yes he is. Also, he’s got a razor in his shoe.
Q: Do you want some of these little green ones? They’re supposed to be good.
A: I think not.
Q: Feels like Saturday today, I don’t know why…
A: It does feel a bit like Saturday…