378
JOYCE CAROL OATES
the transformation doesn't come. Should I wait for you in the dark–
ened hall of your building, on my knees? A devote, submissive lover,
on my knees?
I will make the first move. Don't doubt me. My body tingles
and stiffens at the thought.
Last night I wandered through the alley behind your building,
completely content. Unseen. Armed only with a flashlight, so that I
could look into the overflowing garbage bins
in
the hope - I have no
false pride, Keith!- of discovering something that might have be–
longed to you. Papers, debris, garbage that did not really smell un–
pleasant; yet I found nothing that was yours, uniquely yours.
Will you help me?
Yours,
R. Brightmore
R .B. desires meeting with K .L. Much to be explained
&
enjoyed.
- The Village Voice
14 November
Dear Keith:
Enclosed is a little ad I ran the other day - probably you
missed it.
Have I described myself yet? Eyes dark brown, lustrous. A boy's
eyes, even at my age (you'll have to guess at the age - just add a
few dour years to your own). Not a young woman, no. Not young.
Not a woman. Anything else you care to know?
Run and I
will
pursue you. I know all about you: the black
holes of the universe drag everything into them, their gravity is so
great, so deathly, everything is sucked into them and dies. Is ab–
sorbed. You are inside me, in my head. You will find it comfortable
there so long as you don' t resist. After all you are my possession,
mine.
You belong to all who know your music and read about you but es–
pecially to me because I have claimed you; my love makes me om–
nipotent.
. . . You looked right at me the other day, on the street. I half–
think you recognized me. I was the man
in
the dull-brown coat, hat–
less, with the pale forehead , the eyes cringing and begging behind
my glasses. Since your marriage ended a few months ago you must
