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self； a dream； a spell； a plot； a delirium。
German…made。
〃Don't tell Babette。 She'd get real put out if she knew you were harboring a firearm。〃
〃I don't want it； Vern。 Take it back。〃
〃Don't put it just anywhere neither。 A kid gets ahold of it； you have an immediate situation。 Be smart。 Think about where to put it so it'll be right there at the time。 Figure out your field of fire beforehand。 If you have an intruder situation； where will he enter； how will he approach the valuables？ If you have a mental； where is he going to e at you from？ Mentals are unpredictable because they don't know themselves what they're doing。 They approach from wherever； from a tree limb； a branch。 Think about putting jagged glass on your window ledges。 Learn dropping to the floor fast。〃
〃We don't want guns in our little town。〃
〃Be smart for once in your life；〃 he told me in the dark car。 〃It's not what you want that matters。〃
Early the next day a crew came to fix the street。 Vernon was out there at once； watching them jackhammer and haul the asphalt； staying close to them as they leveled the smoking pitch。 When the workmen left； his visit seemed to end； collapsed into its own lading momentum。 We began to see a blank space where Vernon stood。 He regarded us from a prudent distance； as if we were strangers with secret resentments。 An indefinable fatigue collected around our efforts to converse。
Out on the sidewalk； Babette held him and wept。 For his departure he'd shaved； washed the car； put a blue bandanna around his neck。 She could not seem to get enough of crying。 She looked into his face and cried。 She cried embracing him。 She gave him a Styrofoam hamper full of sandwiches； chicken and coffee； and she cried as he set it down amid the gouged…out seat stuffing and slashed upholstery。
''She's a good girl；〃 he told me grimly。
In the driver's seat he ran his fingers through his ducktail； checking himself in the rearview mirror。 Then he coughed a while； giving us one more episode of lashing phlegm。 Babette wept anew。 We leaned toward the window on the passenger's side； watching him hunch around into his driving posture； setting himself casually between the door and the seat； his left arm hanging out the window。
〃Don't worry about me；〃 he said。 〃The little limp means nothing。 People my age limp。 A limp is a natural thing at a certain age。 Forget the cough。 It's healthy to cough。 You move the stuff around。 The stuff can't harm you as long as it doesn't settle in one spot and stay there for years。 So the cough's all right。 So is the insomnia。 The insomnia's all right。 What do I gain by sleeping？ You reach an age when every minute of sleep is one less minute to do useful things。 To cough or limp。 Never mind the women。 The women are all right。 We rent a cassette and have some sex。 It pumps blood to the heart。 Forget the cigarettes。 I like to tell myself I'm getting away with something。 Let the Mormons quit smoking。 They'll die of something just as bad。 The money's no problem。 I'm all set inewise。 Zero pensions； zero savings； zero stocks and bonds。 So you don't have to worry about that。 That's all taken care of。 Never mind the teeth。 The teeth are all right。 The looser they are； the more you can wobble them with your tongue。 It gives the tongue something to do。 Don't worry about the shakes。 Everybody gets the shakes now and then。 It's only the left hand anyway。 The way to enjoy the shakes is pretend it's somebody else's hand。 Never mind the sudden and unexplained weight loss。 There's no point eating what you can't see。 Don't worry about the eyes。 The eyes can't get any worse than they are now。 Forget the mind pletely。 The mind goes before the body。 That's the way it's supposed to be。 So don't worry about the mind。 The mind is all right。 Worry about the car。 The steering's all awry。 The brakes were recalled three times。 The hood shoots up on pothole terrain。〃
Deadpan。 Babette thought this last part was funny。 The part about the car。 I stood there amazed； watching her walk in little circles of hilarity； weak…kneed； shambling； all her fears and defenses adrift in the sly history of his voice。
34
The time of spiders arrived。 Spiders in high corners of rooms。 Cocoons wrapped in spiderwork。 Silvery dancing strands that seemed the pure play of light； light as evanescent news； ideas borne on light。 The voice upstairs said： 〃Now watch this。 Joanie is trying to snap Ralph's patella with a bushido stun kick。 She makes contact； he crumples； she runs。〃
Denise passed word to Babette that Steffie was routinely examining her chest for lumps。 Babette told me。
Murray and I extended the range of our contemplative walks。 In town one day he went into small embarrassed raptures over diagonal parking。 There was a charm and a native sense to the rows of slanted vehicles。 This form of parking was an indispensable part of the American townscape； even when the cars were foreign…made。 The arrangement was not only practical but avoided confrontation； the sexual assault motif of front…to…back parking in teeming city streets。
Murray says it is possible to be homesick for a place even when you are there。
The two…story world of an ordinary main street。 Modest； sensible； mercial in an unhurried way； a prewar way； with prewar traces of architectural detail surviving in the upper stories； in copper cornices and leaded windows； in the amphora frieze above the dime…store entrance。
It made me think of the Law of Ruins。
I told Murray that Albert Speer wanted to build structures that would decay gloriously； impressively； like Roman ruins。 No rusty hulks or gnarled steel slums。 He knew that Hitler would be in favor of anything that might astonish posterity。 He did a drawing of a Reich structure that was to be built of special materials； allowing it to crumble romantically—a drawing of fallen walls； half columns furled in wisteria。 The ruin is built into the creation； I said； which shows a certain nostalgia behind the power principle； or a tendency to organize the longings of future generations。
Murray said； 〃I don't trust anybody's nostalgia but my own。 Nostalgia is a product of dissatisfaction an