VII

The Nothing Man walked to the Nothing Woman, a virus in their souls

A memory of nothing, only a sense of what was

He and the vagrant young men moved along a line of sickness for a homeless meal

The Nothing Man in his rust cap

His pulled-up collar frayed at the edges

The Nothing Woman in white poured warm soup in the cold November Rain

The line of men touched their lips to the small bowls and drank from her kindness

The Nothing Man stood near...he sensed his nameless lover in the summer garden when she said Idaho...

 

"Come," she said. "Just you and me, we can float to Idaho. See the hills and valleys from above. Our spirits in eternal love. We'll sing each other's name, and listen to it echo forever young in the cold, pure air."

He laughed. "You know, I will fly to Atlantic City tomorrow with my bachelor friends. Play Taj Mahal. When I come back we will marry, and float our souls to Idaho."