44
PARTISAN REVIEW
with the drum-man's boom. He gathered with the others to see what
the boom, listened with the others when the politician spoke, laughed
with the others when the politician spoke, smiled when the drum-man
smiled with
his
eyes, blue and white eyes, let the booming run through
his blood like the sun will shine through a summer rain, like the beat–
ing of the rain when the drops are big with sunlight prismed in each
big drop. Ready to exert himself to live when he saw that others were
ready to live, ready to claim the moment of life while others felt their
passion die of fright. Smiled with the people when they smiled (and
the drum-man's smile), breathed with the people when they breathed
(and the drum-man's boom) as the drum-man breathed.
That was his way of living his life, living the life that he found
all about him, leisurely always looking for life, living the moments he
found on his journeys, relinquishing never but tiring quickly. His was
a slow and rain-free life, he lived his life like a summer rain rains.
As
he was standing in the crowd, he felt himself shyly pushed
aside by a hand on his shoulder (Martha's hand! ) that he instantly
loved. Turning, he saw Martha (and instantly loved ) as she pushed
her way past him, eyes like a pastureland living for rain and her
breasts beating quickly like a drum-man's boom within. He did not
know or care that the meadow of her eyes (the life in her eyes ) was
normally a lawn that the drum-man had broadened for the very first
time, that they would shrink again to lawn when the honey had
crystalized on her tongue and the grapes had withered to wrinkled
grapes. That did not change his feeling and need, his desire, his pur–
pose. Loving was the process of his life, strengthening, fulfilling. The
constant reincarnation of his mood was the falling of rain, the sudden
sweet absorption, the rising as mist.
He didn't have to think or consider (he too is our man ) . The
drum-man boomed. Boom boom boom. Martha jumped to live her
instant. This was an instant of many for the tramp, the sudden love,
the strengthening. The truck moved faster. Tramp ran, ran. Boom
boom boom. The truck roared away and the tramp was on, clinging
to the side as it gathered speed, Martha sprawled on the floor of the
truck, drum-man easily beating the drum. Boom. Boom. Drum-truck
riding out of town with the three of them on. Boom.
·
* * *
In the front of the truck the driver drove and the politician
planned his speeches as he rode. They are shut off, they are out of our
life, they are not in the account. Our world is the back of the truck,
lives will be lived on the back of the truck by our woman and our
two men.
They don't look at each other yet, these three, our three. This is
the pause between separate lives and the living of life. They breathe
