from 366.
70.
and if you really want to make an accounting of it all, you
can definitely say this, that
when all was said and done there was infinitely more
said
than
done, I
think I read that on a bumpersticker once, or perhaps
it was on one of those metal plates,
custom made to look retro and sold
in gift shops in the Strand on
Galveston Island, down there by where
the glutted Americans families roll themselves every Sunday into
one of three carnival cruise liners, leaving behind
a city full of college students on Spring Break, darting
in and out of headshops to
buy glowinthedark condoms and
billowedglass bongs,
sold in the downstairs of historic buildings with
victorian facades, built by men who
plowed the land under and changed the course of the
very ocean itself, so that this island could become the place
where the world congregated, where all goods intersected,
where fortunes were made so strong they could never
be swept away by hurricanes, only
dribbled away
by simple-minded progeny,
and a succeeding century too slow to progress.
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