He's a statue. He doesn't whisper "shit," and for a minute he holds his breath. Look inside his mind. There's no poem pushing at the scene. It's quiet...inside, just a little quivering like the background vibration of the universe. Dark. Empty. Alone. He's aware, but only of Anne, of her words, her face, a tiny droplet of sperm that's collected at the end of her right eyelash. It doesn't quite glue her eye closed. She blinks her eye all the way open and continues."Victor is everything to me, my. "OK, you are right", I said, "I might do it sloppy, but do you mind doing it in a barbershop ?"Linda got excited and immediately agreed. I knew why: My Italian barber, Roberto, was a very handsome man. I knew that Linda would enjoy getting a haircut from him. In fact, Roberto was not only a very handsome man, he was also an excellent barber. From time to time I would visit him, just to enjoy the treat."Listen, Ed", said Linda, "I am accepting your offer, but you should know thatI am going to. More

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