. . . .I am calling up my connection. He says he will come over to soon.
Soon, there is a banging at my back door. I look out the kitchen window--it is the
kitchen and backdoor of the house I lived in between the ages of 9 and 14; I didn't know
what a connection was, then.
A woman is standing out there. She is holding an armful of big leaf weeds, like she
was going on a date--plaintains, or something--not what I was expecting. She makes like
she is my connection, which she is not, and I make like I don't
know what is happening.
Finally, she leaves.
There is a banging and other great noises in the driveway along which she, and
apparently other cops are moving. I am inside the same childhood house--now I am in the
The phone rings. It is the chief of police, saying, he knows all about me, and he isn't
going to rest until he gets me. . . .
. . . . I am in my father's apartment. I am uneasy but I’m not sure why. I have made
myself a ham sandwich, and am eating it in the livingroom.
My father comes in. He picks up the sandwich...and throws it down. He asks, Do I
know that they say Jews are everywhere? He is very angry.
It is as if he is demanding whether I am prepared. . . .