II. EACH

Like honey is the sleep of the just.

 

When Geryon was little he loved to sleep but even more he loved to wake up.

 

He would run outside in his pajamas.

 

Hard morning winds were blowing life bolts against the sky each one blue enough

 

to begin a world of its own.

 

The word each blew towards him and came apart on the wind. Geryon had always

 

had this trouble: a word like each,

 

when he stared at it, would disassemble itself into separate letters and go.

 

A space for its meaning remained there but blank.

 

The letters themselves could be found hung on branches or furniture in the area.

 

What does each mean?

 

Geryon had asked his mother. She never lied to him. Once she said the meaning

 

it would stay.

 

She answered, Each means like you and your brother each have your own room.

 

He clothed himself in this strong word each.

 

He spelled it at school on the blackboard (perfectly) with a piece of red silk chalk.

 

He thought softly

 

of other words he could keep with him like beach and screach. Then they moved

 

Geryon into his brother’s room.

 

It happened by accident. Geryon’s grandmother came to visit and fell off the bus.

 

The doctors put her together again

 

with a big silver pin. Then she and her pin had to lie still in Geryon’s room

 

for many months. So began Geryon’s nightlife.

 

Before this time Geryon had not lived nights just days and their red intervals.

 

What’s that smell in your room? asked Geryon.

 

Geryon and his brother were lying in the dark in their bunk beds Geryon on top.

 

When Geryon moved his arms or legs

 

the bedsprings made an enjoyable PING SHUNK SHUNK PING enclosing him from below

 

like a thick clean bandage.

 

There’s no smell in my room, said Geryon’s brother. Maybe it’s your socks,

 

or the frog did you

 

bring the frog in? said Geryon. What smells in here is you Geryon.

 

Geryon paused.

 

He had a respect for facts maybe this was one. Then he heard

 

a different sound from below.

 

SHUNK SHUNK PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING

 

PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING.

 

His brother was pulling on his stick as he did most nights before sleep.

 

Why do you pull on your stick?

 

Geryon asked. None of your business let’s see yours, said his brother.

 

No.

 

Bet you don’t have one. Geryon checked. Yes I do.

 

You’re so ugly I bet it fell off.

 

Geryon remained silent. He knew the difference between facts and brother hatred.

 

Show me yours

 

and I’ll give you something good, said Geryon’s brother.

 

No.

 

Give you one of my cat’s-eyes.

 

No you won’t.

 

I will.

 

Don’t believe you.

 

Promise.

 

Now Geryon very much wanted a cat’s-eye. He never could win a cat’s-eye when he

 

knelt on cold knees

 

on the basement floor to shoot marbles with his brother and his brother’s friends.

 

A cat’s-eye

 

is outranked only by a steelie. And so they developed an economy of sex

 

for cat’s-eyes.

 

Pulling the stick makes my brother happy, thought Geryon. Don’t tell Mom,

 

said his brother.

 

Voyaging into the rotten ruby of the night became a contest of freedom

 

and bad logic.

 

Come on Geryon.

 

No.

 

You owe me.

 

No.

 

I hate you. I don’t care. I’ll tell Mom. Tell Mom what?

 

How nobody likes you at school.

 

Geryon paused. Facts are bigger in the dark. Sometimes then he would descend

 

to the other bunk

 

and let his brother do what he liked or else hang in between with his face pressed

 

into the edge of his own mattress,

 

cold toes balancing on the bed below. After it was over his brother’s voice

 

got very kind.

 

You’re nice Geryon I’ll take you swimming tomorrow okay?

 

Geryon would climb back up to his bunk,

 

recover his pajama bottoms and lie on his back. He lay very straight

 

in the fantastic temperatures

 

of the red pulse as it sank away and he thought about the difference

 

between outside and inside.

 

Inside is mine, he thought. The next day Geryon and his brother

 

went to the beach.

 

They swam and practiced belching and ate jam-and-sand sandwiches on a blanket.

 

Geryon’s brother found an American dollar bill

 

and gave it to Geryon. Geryon found a piece of an old war helmet and hid it.

 

That was also the day

 

he began his autobiography. In this work Geryon set down all inside things

 

particularly his own heroism

 

and early death much to the despair of the community. He coolly omitted

 

all outside things.