He decides to body his weakness
until the voyage of the sunrise. A
series of short naps in the morning
relieve the sky of its clouds. The
day! He licks his wounds, tucks
a pillow under his thumb, eats
an orange. An orange sits in
a silver bowl (next to a
bruised pear). Starting
backwards (from the
top) diCaprio exhales
a delicate sigh. He
recommends the
decompressed
time. Fine. 11
mornings later he
arrives: cool glass,
parched lips, smooth
leaden sea. His left
arch twinges. I remem-
ber picking him up and
putting him into my pocket
for the very first time. We had
just passed the used car lot on our
way to the Black Bacon Cafe for eggs
(over hard, astride two dark and chalky
slips of the BBC’s namesake), coffee’d
cream, and scads of McElheny’s
fresh, extra-thick honey.
