GEORGE
419
"Does it matter that this may have been a stunt, after all? That
having witnessed the first climax of the evening in the fight between
Martha and Phil, only to see it surpassed by Gloria, he had deter–
mined to cap them all with a climax they'd talk about for years?
(Mter taking his bearings and reassuring himself he was on the first
floor.) Does it matter that he didn't come lightly wafting down, as
I said, but landed with a crash and lost his hat-another few feet
and he would have killed himself for sure? As it was, he was laid
up with a sprained ankle, but it's a credit to him-this I did see; we
all ran to the window, even the naked Gloria-that he picked him–
self up and walked off, without a limp. And without looking back. .."
He had talked himself out. We sat and listened to the records;
Mozart. Stanley drained off the rest of his drink and once more his
eyes went over the rim of the glass, stealing over my belongings. But
this time the envy did not immediately appear: he was too full of ad–
miration for George, still too close to him. He regarded me sadly
with his bulging, watery eyes, eyes that could never look at a
woman with playfulness in them. But for the moment, sharing
George's power, he was exempt, and still oblivious to the pain of
his discipleship.
Winthrop Palmer
GUERNICA
Gray as a negative this bastard of photography
Gallops and gawks twelve feet of horror tale.
Here's tragedy. Picasso paints a headline on the wall
The cruel enemy set fire to a
city.
Then war becomes not even chit-chat
For the corner drugstore or the Automat.
