Phillip D. Neal • Orpheus Aimee C. Nezhu·kumatathil • Lightning Bug Wine ·Mark Glover • Kaliedoscop~c Walk Alex Mark Glove Mosaic aptive Phill Undergraduate Art and Literature Magazine Sean Schne1 er • ng 1s ass 1chael Rauburn • Birthday Morning Rebecca M. Cook• The Observatory Steven Jost • A Burial Denied To Suicides James Tomas • Grandpappa's Good Suit Philip Bump •. Hierarchy Of the Demolition Man Marina Sbrochi • Living It Cheryl Honingford • Itchy the Sucker Mark Sumner• A Loss Of Hearing Aimee C. Nezh·ukumatathil • Juliet Ruminates In Pink Courtney Stewart• A Cab Ride Confession James Tomas • Sunset Mark Glover • The Local Superheroes Steven Jost • Wandering Grounds Adam Gray • Muliebrity Melissa Miller • Masek Mosaic

Literature Section TABLE OF CONTENTS FOREWORD Mosaic is a magazine created from the efforts and contributions of ,.... Philip Bump many. Several visions and perspectives come together to create one final Phillip D. Neal 9_.., 0 Hierarchy Of the Demolition Man 2. Orpheus production. This year's format is a departure from recent years, but change is not uncommon in the magazine's eighteen-year history. The size, layout, and Aimee C. Nezhukumatathil L"1S Marina Sbrochi direction of the magazine have changed frequently, reflecting the changing 4 Lightning Bug Wine L Livinglt perspectives of the undergraduate student staffs and contributors. The flexibility in form and content makes Mosaic an even more significant outlet for the talent and inspiration of undergraduate students at the Ohio State Mark Glover 1._") ~ Cheryl Honigford Z.... Itchy the Sucker University. ;:, Kaleidoscopic Walk ~ Mosaic has many event~ throughout the year which reflect its goals of '""' / Mark Sumner providing a forum for authors and artists, and enhancing the opportunities / Alexander Robinson '-'"" \...''"'\ A Loss Of Hearing and climate at OSU. Events include an art show, poetry and fiction readings, 0 Saxofall and the unveiling of the annual magazine. Such a widespread, yearlong Aimee C. Nezhukumatathil effort would be impossible without a great deal of support. The Student Mark Glover 3 f Juliet Ruminates ln Pink Events Committee co-sponsored the art show for the fourth year, and helped 1.. 0 Fires finance the AlbertJ. Kuhn Awards for Excellence. Our faculty advisors Courtney Stewart assisted Mosaic again this year, particularly David Citino, who gave a reading Dan McKean 38 A Cab Ride Confession autumn quarter and who is always ready to offer advice and assistance. The 1.1. Captive "Friends of Mosaic" are due many thanks, both for their financial support and their belief that Mosaic is a worthwhile and unique publication. Our advisor ""1 James Tomas this year, Arienne McCracken, has brought an enthusiastic and fresh view to Phillip D. Neal 4 0 Sunset 18 Snow Angel Mosaic. She has been wonderful to work with, and has offered helpful criticisms and insights to the organization. The University Honors Center is Mark Glover central to the success of Mosaic. For the entire history of Mosaic, the Honors 9 ·) Sean Schneider 4 The Local Superheroes ...... , \,.., English Class 4 Center has supported and enhanced the magazine, allowing it to develop into its present form. All these supporters are due the most exquisite thanks r- Steven Jost and appreciation, and hopefully Mosaic will continue to be worthy of their O Michael Rayburn 4 ~ Wandering Grounds support. Z- 0 Birthday Morning Without the talent and interest of our contributing artists and authors AdamGray there would be no magazine. It is therefore the contributors- all L..., Rebecca M. Cook / o 0 Muliebrity undergraduates, representing many areas of study- who deserve the greatest Z....LThe Observatory 4 thanks for making Mosaic a successful publication. / Melissa Miller Thank you for making another year possible. ,.., Steven Jost 0 OO Masck L .J A Burial Denied To Suicides Cara McCoy Publisher /Editor 1.") ;{ James Tomas 6 J Author Biographies LT Grandpappa's Good Suit e ORPHEUS • PHILLIP D. NEAL

We mark the dawn And the twig-boats in red-traced ripples, dance in their circles, dropping our twigs and despite the emptiness, to the water, sail on. to race in the thawing light.

Distant, the mist crouches over the green-tasseled hills, spilling down to the water's edge like slow morning whispers sucked dry of color.

Our homeland is a forgotten dock, and the first sunbeams kiss our foreheads like a maternal rousing; the lapping tides caress our naked toes.

We are fathers to each other in this silence; two freckled boys intent upon snapped-off fragments of oak; two small bodies pressed against warm wood; two limpid souls in the hush before reality can be discerned from among the fog-drawn shadows. WINNER OF THE 1995 ALBERT]. KUHN AWARD FOR EXCELLENCE IN WRITING, POETRY

Mosaic Mosaic e e LIGHTNING BUG WINE • A. NEZHUKUMATATHIL KALEIDOSCOPIC WALK • MARK GLOVER walking on windowsills From pretty posed until i've retraced pony tails his footsteps a thousand times jammed cool yellow bones of words do not say yes drinking jim dandies until those clocks on some honey-sugared wall read enough to say good-bye to sky slung still, i laugh nuclear when strawberry stained lips neon candies smack my gum in his hand sidewalk diamonds 'cuz i can clench his heart anytime i want, out front of bars but faked lightning bug paths lay in veins just don't settle well inside of me. tossed from cars we too convey a million meanings with just one look-­ Look, this ledge underneath quivers till the blind munchkin's like a belly under new love. mad candy cane red water seeped up some strange stairwell; seems strange tap taps the flood never came ... all i'm seeing is a sky that lingers against my brain between my Budapest but her shrine entails nothing more than a spoonful of magic dust collected behind my dresser-­ decades of wine-colored bliss. foreboding glimmers, flecks of stone wink at them on that road traversed a million laughs ago.

Mosaic e SAXOFALL• ALEXANDER ROBINSON Myhand He wanted to save some for him Torn and beaten And for the next night Outstretched And the next one ...

His fingers danced up and down But the veins in his wrists Around and around Running along his weathered hands The pearl covered keys Down his long loose fingers As the sweat poured down his chiseled brow Prominently stood Up through his skin His face Making his struggle known So con tarted Demonstrating his exertion Strained His battle Drowned in sweat as thick as blood His war To hold back and save something for himself He poured all his life His soul Myhand Into the golden chamber Torn and beaten The long hollow horn Outstretched Which hung loosely from his charcoaled neck Reached for his brow /-shaped Out of the darkness Intricate Into the chalky spotlight Embellished with lengths of gold That was his aura Terminating in pieces of pearl And his light Unceasingly caressed by calloused fingertips To release him To console him He squeezed the keys so tightly To wipe his brow Like he was trying to strangle the air flowing from between his moist lips Of the life that oozed down his ghostly face In side those golden chambers . The blackness in that chalky light To prevent all that h~ was from flowing out into the blackness of the smoky air But Which lingered The darkness was too thick Hovering above his dazed expression His soul was too thick And throughout every inch of the nightclub's four walls His struggle was his own

Holding back He blew on He couldn't give it to them A slow lazy drag Not all of it The notes Not yet Deep and low

Mosaic Mosaic Stumbled from, He blew on Dragged from his deepest corners Those hidden places He swayed back and forth That he never gave words On uncertain legs Or air to speak them Weary Lost They made their way Alone Through the golden chamber A few escaping here and there Myhand Where his fingers let the keys stand open Torn and beaten Bending at the waist Outstretched Arching forward Reached out Till the horn hung flat against the floor From the darkness He poured the notes onto the st_age . . Into the chalky light Into the full white moon that circled him at his feet To steady him They hung from the lip of the horn To lend him support As long as they could To lay him down Not wishing to show themselves And carry him home Naked To pry the horn from his hands To the peering eyes To save something for him Which looked on through the smoke Before he gave himself all away But They hung for dear life He was too heavy Afraid to reveal themselves His swaying body eluded my grasp Afraid to be misunderstood He didn't want to be saved But He didn't want to be saved He pushed them on . Until he stood in a pool of himself Which quickly rose to his neck And tried to strangle him To take his breath To keep him from giving anymore .

ic e FIRES • MARKGLOVER CAPTIVE • DAN MCKEAN The saguaros, looking like Helen, he drove toward Sasabe, a The matchstick men bemused robbery victims, dot the small town on the Mexican border, to press desert, belying the premise that hunt for rattlesnakes. Their skins the stale sweat nothing can live here. The sun casts supplemented the meager pension of barley an orange glow over the desolate that Bud received. He'd been there between bloated lips land, turning the sand and scrub into once before, when he volunteered for in the house a blanket of shimmering gold and the service with the U.S. Border Patrol, dripping dead mountains, strung along the desert and even though he hadn't seen any with angels and liars. floor, into a formidable wall of brass. rattlers while there, he'd heard this Great chunks of red rock strain area was overloaded with them. It's how we repress skyward, toward some unseen and There was a last chance gas pump fires, unknown goal, and to the west, the and store only a mile or so ahead and keep the slow spiral of descending vultures Bud prayed it hadn't closed. He had match head adds a hypnotic quality to the lonely to fill the truck's tank and empty his wet. scene. There is a certain freedom in own. the desert and those who find it can The Hank Williams tape came never leave. They, like the saguaro to an end and Bud swapped it with and the red rock, are held forever another, beginning an off-key duet captive. with Conway Twitty. He kept time Bud Wilson was a willing by tapping his pinky ring against the captive, and had been since he and rack mounted barrel of his Winches­ his wife Helen had moved here less ter. than a year ago. He'd spent what he Cresting a small rise, Bud saw considered the best years of his life the gas station ahead and slowed inside an Akron tire plant and was down. "Damn!" he said to the inte­ enjoying his recent release into the rior of the truck as he pulled into the wilds of the Arizona desert. dirt lot, "I hope there's no trouble." He watched the vultures He could see an Indian slouched in slowly arc toward the ground and an easy chair on the front porch of the bloated dinner that awaited the store. He had a cowboy hat them. He shuddered at the thought; tipped over his eyes-- nicer than the Bud hated the vultures for their one beside Bud, and silver-tipped ugliness but appreciated them for Tony Llamas that gleamed brightly in their undiscerning eye when it came the sun. But, Bud laughed to himself, to dinner. They, after all, helped keep the rest was pure reservation. Levi's the desert free of carrion. bleached white from a thousand Today, against the protests of washings and still dirty, and a blue A' .; Mosaic Mosaic ~ chambray work shirt, sleeves rolled tered to himself, looking through the Back outside, Two Eagle morning, but he worried about up to mid-bicep and stained with pile. For a moment, he'd forgotten Feathers once again tried to get a ride Helen. He'd promised that he would from Bud. call when he got to Sasabe and sweat. about going to the bathroom, but it "Hey Geronimo!" he hollered, wasn't long before he was skipping "Looky here, redman. I ain't wished there was a way he could let trying to sound friendly, "Pretty far to the dank, dark room, unzipping going that way." Bud's heart was her know that he was okay. She from the reservation, ain'cha?" Bud his fly as he went. beating rapidly and he could feel the wasn't comfortable with him travel­ kept a close eye on him as he as­ "Where you headed?" the bile rise in his throat. ling all over Arizona, so he usually cended the steps. He knew how clerk asked when Bud came out. Two Eagle Feathers took a called her every evening when he unpredictable Indians could be, and "Why you want to know?" step closer. "All I want is a ride." was out. that they responded best if you Bud whispered, looking to see if the Bud stared at him as he had "Bud, I wish you wouldn't go showed them who was in charge Indian was still on the porch. done to the clerk, hoping the Indian after rattlesnakes. You don't know right from the start. "If you're headed south, 286 is didn't see him swallow just as hard. the first thing about them. What if The Indian's black eye stared closed between here and the border. "I said I ain't going south. Can you you get bitten, out there all by your­ at Bud from under the brim of his You'll need to take Brawley Wash understand that?" Bud pulled self?" hat. "My truck broke down," he Trail instead." himself into the truck, using his They had been seeing a finally said, raising the hat from his "Where's that?" Bud asked elbow to lock the door, and backed counselor at the time, who had eyes. "Can you give me a lift to irritably, looking at his watch. away. When he got to the road he advised them to talk about how they stopped and looked in the mirror. felt, rather than being accusatory and Sasabe?" "It's kind of hard to find, but "Sorry, chief, I sure can't," Bud the Indian out front knows, and he's The Indian had returned to his chair demeaning. So Bud had let her answered, "I ain't headed thataway." looking to go to Sasabe. Maybe you and was watching Bud. Bud smiled, know. Inside, the store was much as could help each other out." deliberately turned the signal left "Looky here, woman, ain't no Bud remembered-- filled with odds "I ain't takin' no damn Indian and pulled back onto 286, headed snake gonna bite me because I got and ends that anyone living far from nowhere. You think I want let out in south. In the fading light, Bud one of these forked sticks. See?" he the city might need at any given the desert to die?" passed the entrance to the trail three had asked, holding it up. "When I time, if they were willing to pay the The clerk laughed. "That's times before finally finding it. It see one of 'em, I just clamp this bad price. He headed toward the john Two Eagle Feathers, Sasabe's only wasn't until he had driven seven boy right over their neck, like this." and stopped at a table stacked with doctor. He'd no more'n slit your miles on the twisting path and his To show her how quick he was, he Wrangler jeans. A dingy orange sign throat than your own mother." truck started sputtering that he jabbed it at her slender wrist, which read, "Closeout Sale Only $12. 95 "You don't know my mother," realized he'd forgotten to fill the was resting on the dining table. "See tank. what I mean?'' he said, pinning her each." Bud replied, "so how 'bout leavin' "You got any forty-sixes?" her out of this? Besides, an Indian's "Damn!" Bud cursed. "Damn, wrist to the table. "Ain't no snake Bud asked the skinny clerk, nodding an Indian's an Indian, and there ain't damn, damn." He hit the steering gonna get Bud Wilson. Ain't none fast enough." at the pile of denim. no Indian gettin' in my truck while wheel with the flat of his hand. "Shit!" She was still holding the wet The clerk shrugged. "S~ rt I'm alive." Bud stared hard at the through 'em yourself. I can't leave desk clerk for a moment. "Now, if we He decided to spend the towel to her swollen wrist when Bud night in the safety of the truck and apologized an hour later. "I'm sorry the register." got that out of the way, would you "Helluva price," Bud mut- tell me how to find this trail?" head back to the gas station in the honey, I didn't mean to hurt you, but

Moaic I wanted you to know how fast I truck here, I naturally got worried." I'm a-okay," Bud whispered. you're talking to yourself, Cowboy, was, to let you know that I could "No trouble," Bud responded, By the time morning broke, and you know that ain't right." Bud handle myself. You gonna be okay hoping it sounded more like a state­ Bud wished he had taken the ride shut up and looked above and below, now, you hear?" She nodded that, ment than a request. "I'm fine ... I from the Indians. His stomach was deciding that he was already half yes, she would be alright. just got a little tired. Pulled over to already protesting its missing break­ way up, and he may as well continue Bud laughed now, thinking sleep." · fast, and he didn't relish the prospect the climb. · about it. "Oh Helen," he said, yawn­ "Sure there's nothing you of a ten to twelve mile hike. He By ten, he had crested the top ing, "you ain't said anything since, so need?" considered waiting for another car to and was working his way down I guess you learned okay," and "Positive. You can move on pass, but quickly gave up on that when he heard a familiar rattle to his settled back into the seat and fell now." Bud's hand still rested se­ idea; there was no telling when left. Bud spun left, trying to ready asleep. curely on the stock of the Winchester, someone might happen by. the stick, but it got wound up in his but he could feel sweat forming on "Oh well, shit. I best get to it sack. The snake struck, but Bud Bud sat up with a start, not the small of his back. before things heat up out here," Bud jumped back fast enough to avoid sure what had woken him. His neck Two Eagle Feathers glanced sighed, heaving his aching body him. Bud wasn't, however, fast and back ached from a cold that went at his companion and they headed from the cab. enough to regain his footing and clear to the bone. He wiped the sleep back to their truck. Bud was finally He didn't have much to carry, pitched over the side of the ledge. from his eyes and glanced at his able to breathe when they drove past just the Winchester. He knew he'd He fell, bumped and rolled, and watch; 5:00 A.M. He heard a tap­ him. mourn the weight, but also knew finally came to a stop about thirty ping on the side window and "Now get the hell out of here he'd kick himself if he happened feet down when his body became snapped his head to the left. Two and leave me alone," he hollered at upon a cougar or coyote without it. wedged between two large rocks. Eagle Feathers and another Indian their disappearing tail lights. He He decided to take his snake stick When he regained consciqus­ stared back at him, their faces illumi­ couldn't get back to sleep, so he just and bag along as well. The trail, as ness, the sun was shining directly in nated by their flashlights. The trick shivered and watched the desert. Bud recalled, twisted a great deal his right eye, his left was swollen of light and shadow made them look The moon bathed everything in a because of a string of red rock that shut, and his tongue had grown to like demons, and Bud jumped with a waxy light that seemed to lock the formed the eastern wall of the twice its normal size. Swallowing start, reaching for the Winchester saguaros and hills into a surreal still Brawley Wash Canyon. He decided was impossible for lack of saliva and with his left hand and locking the life. It reminded Bud of a painting he that he could shave some time off the when he tried to get up, a bolt of door with his right. Regaining his had seen back in an Ohio store that trip by climbing directly over the pain shot up his left leg, through his composure when he saw them · had specialized in western memora­ canyon wall. It didn't look steep and body, and escaped from his mouth in laughing, he rolled down the win­ bilia. The painting had shown a it had plenty of crevices for hand and a silent scream. Bud panicked, dow an inch. coyote on a mesa, his head arched footholds. Bud began his ascent. sending waves of pain undulating "What ... what do you want?" back, obviously baying at the moon, A hundred feet later, on his through his body until he passed out Bud shivered. and the light in the picture was just third rest, Bud was regretting his again. "Just want to make sur~ like this. An eerie light, Bud thought, decision to climb. When he next woke, the sun you're okay," Two Eagle Feathers if and wondered Helen was up and "Damn, I thought that truck'd was much lower in the western sky answered. "I knew you weren't worrying, watching the same moo;n. be further'n that, Bud said to himself, and he guessed it to be an hour or headed this way, so when I saw yo_ur "Don't you worry, woman. looking down at his Ford. "Now two before dark. Cautiously and Mosa-ic carefully, Bud tried to move his legs. Bud tried to free himself. His leg "Where you headed?" the could he could see light flickering on The right was stiff and swollen but didn't hurt as bad as before and this clerk shouted. and not quite off, over and over reasonably painless. The left heartened him a little. He realized Bud waved his arms to shush again, like a strong light behind a screamed in protest and was obvi­ that the rock digging into his hip was him and jerked his thumb toward the slow moving fan. Suddenly, one of ously broken. When the pain sub­ probably cutting off the blood supply porch. "Don't let him hear you," Bud the tires leapt up from the conveyor sided, Bud tried his arms. They to his leg; and that his leg was hissed. belt and jumped at his chest, biting seemed to work okay, but moving numbed beyond feeling. "Why not?" his eye. The smell was overpowering them started a dull ache in his ribs. "Bud, are you okay?" he heard "Cause he's an Indian and and Bud screamed, but nothing came "Well Cowboy, a broken leg Helen ask. "I was so worried about he's trouble and I don't want him out. He clawed and scratched trying and some cracked ribs at the very you when you didn't call." near me." to get the tire off him, and finally least. Where's a doctor when you Bud snapped his eyes open "He's a doctor, he wouldn't woke up. need one?" Bud asked the darkening and looked for her, but of course she hurt you." He was winded and couldn't sky, and then remembered what the wasn't there. He fell back into a "A doctor? I could use a see very well because the sun was in clerk had said. "Two Eagle Feathers troubled sleep, his parched tongue doctor, my leg is killing me. Call him his eyes, but he saw a black shape is a doctor." Bud laughed at the sticking to the paste on the roof of his in here, will you?" and heard the beating of wings. He irony. mouth. He dreamt he was in a dark, "I'm sorry, I don't work on felt a wetness on his cheek and raised For the next forty-five min­ soft place and trying desperately to pale-faces," the Indian said, standing his hand to see what it was; it came utes, Bud gingerly tried to get him­ get out. He pushed aside the cling­ over Bud. back smeared with blood. Thirst self up from the rocks. After many ing softness in an attempt to force his "C'mon, you're a doctor, you overtook his sense of propriety and rests and curses, Bud gave up and way out. He couldn't breathe and gotta help me. What about the he brought his hand to his lips to get fell q,sleep. was beginning to panic when he oath?" some precious moisture. It tasted of The morning sun quickly finally burst through the top and Two Eagle Feathers turned iron and gagged him, but it served burned off the chill night air, but Bud found himself ensconced in a pile of his back on Bud and strode out to the his purpose-- his throat was suffi­ awoke in a cold sweat. Still unable to jeans at the gas station. The clerk porch. ciently lubricated to speak. effectively move, he began to worry. and Two Eagle Feathers were stand­ "Hey! Hey you damn Indian, "What the hell kind of weird He knew another day exposed to the ing over him, watching and laugh- get back here and look at my leg! dream was that?" Bud rasped and intense desert heat would do him in. ing. Hey!" But the Indian was gone and started at the sound of his own voice. Once again, his thoughts turned to "You got any forty-sixes's?" so was the store. He was back in The realization of what happened Helen. He knew she had to be the clerk asked. Akron, working the tire line with his washed over him. The foul smell still worried sick, two days without "Get the hell away from me," eyes closed. He couldn't hear any­ hung in the air and Bud looked up to hearing from him, and imagined a Bud yelled, sucking air into his thing, but he knew he was there see the sunlight interrupted by the sheriff combing the area for him now. burning lungs. He stumbled from because the smell of rubber was very slow arcing spiral of descending Don't you worry, Honey, I'll the pile and fell to the floor, his left strong, and through his closed lids he vultures. be fine, Bud struggled to say,. but his leg useless. When he got up, the dry throat and swollen tongue clerk was behind the counter and he wouldn't allow the words to escape· could see the Indian lounging in the his mouth. Panic set in again anq easy chair. Mosaic Mosaic SNOW ANGEL • PHILLIP D. NEAL Into what warm silence to carry us · will erupt the shadow beyond the withered clutches of an angel's sigh? of the trees Engrave the night and into forever. with headlights, sharp and breathing, entwined in icy fingers of the moaning trees. A dream of migration, a passport from this moment into another more distant. We shudder and collect ourselves from among the debris gathered on the floormats and in the doorpockets, piecing lives together · from incidental leavings ... Her voice becomes my icicle, stinging the stea.ming flesh of my fingers, melting and running along the skin of my hand to dampen the cuff of my sweater. And in this eternity, it is everything. We hold on to the wet, to the cold, to our voices like snowflakes, unable to overcome silence and be alike. We hold on to the headlights, piercing the shadows over a lonely road, and beckoning us onward, like two eternal pathways

Mosaic ENGLISH CLASS • SEAN SCHNEIDER BIRTHDAY MORNING • MICHAEL RAYBURN Nicola had shiny stiletto heels and loud­ A cool breeze bounces Mouthed lipstick. cotton curtains, blowing ripples The kind that simply slithers on the lips into them. The rod above moves. And puckers and drips when she kisses Sycamore leaves cartwheel on their tips All the bad boys in the pubs. through the open window, floating to the carpeted floor. Crossing my legs, Underbelly of society comes together here I stare out the window. Grass to wetten the buds and moisten the lips stretches across the welcome mat. Poodles play or the lips uncovered by red lipstick tag on the lawn. I smell Mrs. Wells' Over and over in the night's back alley. bacon and her husband's cigar from the next door. I reach for my cup. The glass OH ... the author of this work presses heat into my hand. Sipping is a misogynist! the black warmth into an empty It's all smut, smut, smut and plain old trash. stomach, I set the mug down, stare Damn good stuff on the page, though, giving us a at my wrinkled hands. An antique night out with a slithery gal. light creaks when I pull its chain.

And I love this look. So sexy in black and red and big, greased hair, black eyes and the earrings That almost hang to those lips Covered in black spandex, almost unbreathable, Making it all caustically breathless Which is best for the aerobics of

This evening I went there And hung myself on the wall out in the back alley. Waiting for the bad girls to bring me home.

Mosaic Mosaic e THE OBSERVATORY • REBECCA M. COOK A BURIAL DENIED TO SUICIDES • STEVEN JOST i like to watch him darkness is inside lap the miles digging your grave, Grandpa. of the text that sits i talk a late night before him to right and wrong. he glances and your smile is a know not. i sense a satisfaction thinking all the time a study of the hands makes a life go "whoosh" that caress and hush little baby doesn't say a word. the page papa doesn't like life, mockingbird. the eyes inhale your eyes never seen silver and gold. words his shoulders lying in womb, not alone. strong and proud sucking on seven decades. i relish the thought who needs tomorrow or a kiss enjoy the breeze when you awaken me slowly smiling all the other ways. lips part as a breath escapes instead of waking up, and eyes close you're waking up breakfast to commit a thought for your thin halfway death wish. to his memory a mountain you have made a cord of this butter and toast. in his neck these glances and sighs. becomes visible as he strains to understand your empty smile writes an invitation to a slightly chilled tomb. i breathe words all over your wasted body are unthought languages left unspoken. rise your sign language is nonexistence.

and leave my place they wrote you off for the first of the week. beside him being gracious, gave us two extra. how was yours spent? mine was waking in this darkness. collecting the dust of this late silence.

Mosaic Mosaic e e GRANDPAPPA'S GOOD SUIT• JAMES TOMAS HIERARCHY OF THE DEMOLIDON MAN• PHILIP Billv1P Grandpappa's good black Who is man in this world today? suit hangs lifeless, Is he the bagged eyed junkie fixing meals beneath concrete CCC bridges next attracting to brown shit river, sleeves rolled up like eyes to heaven? dust and such Is he the e oteric all-karma-knowing dreamer of dreamt dreams whose near the wash board soapbox overwhelms his agenda? Is he the lesbian rage at blind attacker from unsafe brick idol porch with plant where his white for cat enjoyment and tongue for woman? one relaxes Is he death gothic in pity garb that creeps rich with coffee into the beds of as it waits relatives and self? to be cleansed Is he examiner of all, of the night before of patterns, of God blessed carpet and holy patter of rain on ocean cold and splotched with waves drawn up by the half-moon which yanks our eyes to the swollen pillow it sits on and pulls us up by our eyelids, of death to animals dragged and bleeding from the jaws of angelic children, dog, cat, etc., or peaceful head on ground trickling blood onto cold concrete dripping urine onto cold semen sticky mattress that's moldy from the fireplace waterfall, of demons whose teeth and hair are perfect and spread lies about humanity to the poor who have nothing to lose but their pains? Is he poem shape of Shelley like dogs eating or whimpering in sleep, calm, quiet rain on fallen leaves and cold in the air everywhere but the hearth or of Ginsberg like mind? Is he candle which aches with ticks to the barren retina of the blind who revile the heat with the dance? Is he metaphor? Is he song? Is he child of motherless wild hair gray eyes gleaming with madness since her mother's rosary passed away through her fingers flailing at child behind couch taking board to window cast iron stove surrenders and falls to basement bedroom floor wet and air too cold, hot coals spilling like a night city over the floor catching small pieces of paper and shaking them into action iron standing firm mountain over valley

Mosaic Mosaic of feet and blistering red? Each man, in burning bed or freezing street or iron or mind prison eats the Is he inaction that boils in man's breast at his pacific peak that pounds like food he acquires and at some point (inspired by the savagery of the lion or acid surf against menhirs of skin shore to save the mind from the the ripping of flesh and wailing of a man) he eats it with satisfaction. politics of drowning in fever? Is he ripped and scarred skin into which is jammed thin needle to breathe the veins with more life than the daisy yellow and white in patches? Is he philosophy scaring life out of books and man into computer? Is he air raid siren or tornado wind or salt lake or highway cracked from parcels of mankind and frozen water or pen out of ink or placard from cold war or dead politician or Hammurabi's code or a Grecian urn? Is he sense (ear, eye, etc.)? Is he gapped grin and tousled hair or shagged rug burned from arson? Is he black like charcoal doused with death buruing fluid to destroy white like crack or AIDS yellow like urine surrounding Christ all over the world (in bed, too) red like fire in palm or Kahn sculpture which smashes on tiled floor like Klee--schoom and the plane's gone? (Sweet cookie we got for free for price of seeing deformed man giving out food in sweltering Americaland coming in from out of the rain.) Is he love? Is he love? Or is he wood split by sweat and metal laying on damp ground to be stacked out of sight of highway laborer out of breath and resting while the log breathes insects and dew in the thick fog that sinks the house up to the doortop and blocks the outside world from existing? IS HE DRUGS, MR. PRESIDENT? Is he death from disease of gum or body? Is he red blood on brown skin in black land of pain? Now dead writer or love pet or other previously joyful expression of himself? Hot wax cooled on skin or power of orgasm or strain of shit? Liberty or freedom or socialistic farm?

Mosaic osaic LIVING IT • MARINA SBROCHI ITCHY THE SUCKER •CHERYL HONINGFORD As I watch the bus tip over onto its side We never really talked to It was the middle of the first grade. I step back. Itchy. We usually just stared at him. I Mrs. Nagel was showing us how to I watch it tip over again. punched him once. It was a good make snowflakes out of construction I step back. punch--high on the cheekbone. It paper. We were all cutting, making a They give me nine small roses in a box for gave him one of those really good mess of tiny, white triangles on our shiners, the ones that start out red, desks when we heard Mrs. Nagel my knowledge. then tum purple, then a faded green­ gasp. I don't know how to step up ish-yellow. I watched that bruise tum "Jeffrey! Your face." and sell it. like leaves do in the fall, and I re­ We turned, the half-finished member thinking with awe and snowflakes in our hands and saw revulsion that, "I gave that to him. Jeffrey scratching feverishly. Big Me." It almost made me sick some­ blotches of red dotted his face. The times when I lay in bed at night. That whole class watched him scratch. ugly bruise would pop into my head. There were long red streaks up and I'd remember how he didn't deserve down his arms from his fingernails. it, and how I gave it to him anyway. Mrs. Nagel rushed him to the I'd remember how it used to be when school nurse. Kerri Himple said we were five and we were friends. something like, "He sure is itchy." He lived next door in the That's what started it all. Since then white ranch house with the green we'd never let him alone. He only shutters. He'd come over almost got hives every once in a while; if every day in the summer, and we'd there was an open bottle of Elmer's play matchbox cars in the sandbox. Glue around. But the name stuck, He'd sculpt houses, and stores, and and after five years some of us had schools out of the chunky sand, and forgotten what his real name had I'd run them over with my red been. corvette with the hood that opened. Itchy just got on our nerves. He'd just smile at me, and rebuild Even when he wasn't doing any­ them, and say "This is fun, isn't it, thing--especially when he wasn't Scottie?" doing anything. He'd sit on a Then school started and swing-the ones with the black rubber everything changed. I got new seats, just sit there with his big friends like Matt and Greg, and Itchy bottom hanging out the back and his didn't get any friends at all. His thighs smashed together in their dark family moved out of the white ranch blue Rustlers. He wouldn't swing, next door, and we didn't play match­ just watch the toes of his sneakers box cars anymore. dragging back and forth in the dirt. He was just another kid, sort Sometimes after our kickball game of invisible really, until he got hives. had ended and before the bell rang,

Mosaic we'd all sit in a group on the warm didn't come out for recess. He'd stay We all figured Miss Quinn The class erupted into a din of asphalt and stare at him. Stare until inside and help Miss Quinn sort gave him the answers before class or clatter, shouts, and laughter. Itchy he noticed us and his cheeks flushed papers or wash blackboards. Some­ fed them to him in a secret code. We looked up nervously and bit his lip. a dark pink, and he looked away times she'd let him do his home­ figured him to be a show-off, Matt Friese jumped up from again. work. teacher's pet. There were no doubts his chair and ran to the front of the Most of the time he didn't That was one of the things about that. After all, if he really room. "Hey Scott, look." He grinned even come out for recess. If he did that bugged us about Itchy. He wasn't a teacher's pet, he'd get an and shoved a handful of papers into come out it was only because he always did his homework, and did it answer wrong every once in a while the shoe box, every one signed Matt knew we were involved in a game or right. He was one of those kids that just to prove that he wasn't. We all F. something. Those times he'd either never raised their hand, but knew all knew that was the way it worked. I laughed at him. "You're sit on the swing or, if that was taken, the answers. He didn't have to raise That's what we would have done, gonna get caught," I said. lean against the school wall as close his hand. but Itchy wasn't one of us, and he "No, I'm not. She won't know as he could possibly get to the door When the silence grew to an didn't know the rules. the difference." He winked and without actually being inside. He'd agonizing length after Miss Quinn We played this game. It was stomped back to his seat. stand there watching us with those had posed a particularly tough kind of like Trivial Pursuit except it Five minutes later when Miss enormous blue eyes that reminded question, she'd nod soberly to Itchy, was in one subject like science or Quinn got back she looked right to me of a marble I had lost once some­ and he'd magically produce the history. Miss Quinn would ask a Itchy. "Everything go okay?" She where, and try to pretend he wasn't elusive answer. It flipped effortlessly question, and whoever answered it glanced distractedly around the watching us. But we knew he was. off his tongue in that high, nasally right would get a piece of paper with room. We could feel those huge, marble voice of his, "President Cleveland, their name on it put in a shoe box on Itchy pushed a shock of light eyes on our backs. It made us feel (or thirty-two), (or the walrus), Miss her desk. At the end of the period, brown hair off his forehead. "Well," important because he envied us, and Quinn." Then she'd smile brightly Miss Quinn would pick a paper from he said in a low voice. we liked that. and nod. the shoe box and whoever's name "Yes?" Sure there were others. Other "That's right, Jeffrey," she'd got picked won a prize like a sucker "Um, Miss Quinn, someone kids who were fat, or wore glasses, or say. Then she'd gaze solemnly or a yo-yo. stuffed the shoe box." He glanced up were smart, or short, or wore the around the room, trying to make One day, Matt Friese had just at Miss Quinn and back down to his wrong kind of shoes. We picked on contact with the dozens of pairs of answered a question about George desk. them, too. We didn't discriminate. eyes that avoided her. She'd sigh and Washington when Miss Quinn was "What do you mean?" We'd steal their glasses, throw their look at the clock. "I expect the rest of called out of the room. On her way "Someone stuffed the shoe new kickballs onto the roof, but it you to participate also." out, she stopped and looked to Itchy. box with their name so they'd win." was never quite as much fun. Itchy Those dozens of pairs of eyes "Oh, Jeffrey, could you watch the Itchy glanced at Matt who licked his was the kind we could just stare at would focus on Itchy, who would class for me while I'm gone?" She upper lip, his eyes narrow slits. and get the same thrill as say, knock­ stare fervently at his book or some smiled. "They'll behave. Won't you?" "Who?" Miss Quinn's eyes ing a second-grader off the monkey squiggle on his desktop. Then some­ She looked around the room. No one widened with disbelief. bars. one would whisper, "ltchy's a re­ answered. "Matt," he said without Most of the time we had to tard," and everyone would laugh. Itchy stared intently at the top hesitation. His blue eyes flicked to settle for picking on Jim Callahan Everyone except Miss Quinn who of his desk. "Sure," he said. Miss the desk again. with his glass eye or lifting Sally would ask, "What's so funny?" and Quinn disappeared into the hallway, Miss Quinn picked up the Stenen's skirt up, because Itchy no one would answer. shutting the door behind her. shoe box and walked to Matt's desk. Mosaic She scowled down at him. "Matt, did but anyone who wanted to be left keep moist. I caught the ball on its way you do that?" alone knew them to the letter. For Greg pulled the superball out up. Matt sighed. "It was just a one, no one answered all the ques­ of his jeans pocket. He let it roll "Villigus Toad ... " she fin­ joke. It's not a big deal." He glanced tions right even if they knew all the around on his open palm, and I ished and snapped her book shut. over his shoulder at Itchy who answers. Itchy violated that one could see the silver sparkles in the She looked up from her fat teachers' shifted anxiously in his seat. every day. Second, no one ever stared rubber flash under the fluorescent edition right at Greg. "Greg, what's Miss Quinn ran her fingers at us--Matt, Greg, and I stared at light. He nodded at me and going on back there?" over the brown cardboard lid, think­ them. We all new what those big, whispered," the." I returned the nod Greg shrugged his narrow ing for a moment. "Well, I'll just have marble eyes felt like burning into our with a smirk. We turned to the front shoulders and said, "Nothin', Miss • II to throw the whole game out. No one backs. Third, no one ever told on us. of the room and waited. Q wnn. will win." Itchy really blew that one and he "The ... " Miss Quinn began. She switched her gaze to me. A chorus of groans arose from paid for it. Maybe he learned from Bounce. I put my hand on the superball in my the class. that because one time he was actually "Villigus Toad of the ... " pocket and swallowed. "Scott," she "Sorry, that's the way it sort of an okay kid. Bounce. said rubbing her hands together, "Is goes," Miss Quinn said, turning to One boring Tuesday morning, "North American forests is there something I should know the chalkboard. "Let's start chapter Matt Friese showed up at school with the ... " about?" There was a hint of panic in nine of our math book." She gave a bright green superball. He made us Bounce. her voice although her face appeared Matt one last disapproving look. guess which hand it was in and all "Largest amphibian in the ... " calm. I knew Itchy would get it for that, but that was kids' stuff, and Bounce. "Nothing, Miss Quinn," I said telling. He knew it, too. He didn't Greg Dillard and I got a better idea. Miss Quinn looked up from shaking my head slowly. I felt my come out for recess for two weeks. Greg and I sat in the last row, her notes. "What's that thumping ears grow hot. I hated to lie to Miss When he finally did Matt Friese right in front of the World Book noise?" she asked. Greg stuffed the Quinn. called Itchy a "dumb bastard" (a Encyclopedias. Because Miss Quinn superball into his pocket and smiled She paused, her lips pursed phrase he learned from his dad) and used alphabetical order, Itchy sat in innocently. She glanced around the into a thin, white line. She turned to pushed him to the ground-hard. As I front of Greg. When Greg was bored room for a few seconds then went Itchy. I knew in that instant we were stoo.d watching the whole thing, I he'd flick spitballs at the back of back to her notes. Matt turned, his done for. Itchy would squeal, and we noticed that Itchy almost started to Itchy's head. Sometimes I'd do it, too. forehead creased with worry. He would get some horrid, unbearable cry, but stopped himself. I kind of Itchy's face would turn a bright didn't want his superball confiscated. punishment like banging erasers admired him for that; not crying. I scarlet color, and he'd put his head Itchy turned slightly in his after school or writing, "I will not got knocked off the jungle gym in the down on his desk trying to move out chair. My eyes caught his and I could play with toys during class" five second grade, and I bawled my head of our line of fire. It never worked. see the anxiety in them. He started to hundred times. And to top it off, off. Of course, I would've never told We pelted him anyway. chew on his thumbnail, and he Matt would get his superball taken anyone that I admired Itchy for that, That day we waited until turned back to the front of the room. away to sit in Miss Quinn's bottom for anything. Not even if they shoved Miss Quinn started her lecture about It took Miss Quinn a couple left drawer until the end of the year. bamboo slivers under my fingernails toads. There was an aquarium on her of seconds to find her place then she Matt would never forgive us for that. like they did on TV. desk that was supposed to have a began again. "Now on page twenty­ The class turned to Itchy, their That's what got him in real toad in it, but we couldn't see it seven of your text, there is a picture faces expectant and curious. Itchy trouble the most, really: not knowing because it was hiding under a big of the ... " squirmed in his wooden chair and it the rules. The rules were unspoken, leaf. Miss Quinn said they like to Bounce. creaked under his weight.

Mo90.ic Mosaic once he wasn't watching us. He was They laughed, but I couldn't laugh. I "Jeffrey," Miss Quinn said glared at us for a few more seconds all wrapped up in a tiny, green held my throbbing fist and Itchy just softly, the panic growing ever so and looked back down at her book. caterpillar that was making its way looked at me. I wish he would have slightly. "Can you tell me what's I turned to Greg and made a across the pavement. cried or yelled or even hit me back, going on back there?" face . He stuck his tongue out. The "Hey, Itchy," I said as spite­ just done something. Instead, he Itchy's face turned so red I superball stayed in my pocket until fully as I could. looked at me like his puppy had just thought that for a second he might recess. Itchy stayed inside and His head snapped up. His died, and all I could do was remem­ have hives again. His forehead stacked books that afternoon. marble eyes darted back and forth ber what good friends we used to be wrinkled in concentration. Those Itchy hadn't squealed. Maybe . between Greg and me. The misery in and how his mom used to give us dozens of pairs of eyes fixed on him he'd been afraid of getting beaten up them made my stomach ache, and I lemonade. He looked at me like that in anticipation. There was no doubt or maybe he'd thought we'd include decided maybe this time I would and made me want to throw up. in them: he would tell. him in something if he played by the walk on by. Maybe this time I would "Baby," Greg sniffed. "You "Well?" she said, tapping her rules. We never did, of course. We all give him a break. I suddenly saw him know, Itchy, you really are a sucker." teachers' edition of The World Around knew things didn't work that way. molding a house in my sandbox. I He put his palm on Itchy's chest and Us impatiently with her fingers. He'd never be included. I think he saw that goofy smile and heard him gave him a push. Itchy wheeled his Itchy opened his mouth, but knew that, too. say, "This is fun, isn't it Scottie?" I arms, lost his balance, and fell to the nothing came out. He glanced over decided maybe I would .. .. sticky asphalt with a thud. his shoulder at Greg. His hands Maybe I did it because I was I heard Matt and the other He started to get up then twisted together, and he wiped them afraid of not being included--afraid kids cheering behind me. They were stopped. He glared at Greg. A red on his jeans. He shut his mouth then of being like Itchy. Afraid of being yelling and whistling. "Do it!" Cindy welt was appearing below his left opened it again. "Nothing, Ma'am," picked on and alone. Avery shouted. eye. he whispered. Do it. "Greg," I heard myself say in "Could you please speak It was the very next day that I So I did it. I cocked my arm a thin voice I didn't recognize. "Let's up?" gave him the black eye. It was May, back as far as I could and sucked in go inside." "I said, 'Nothing, Ma'am'" he and the first really summer-like day my breath. Itchy's mouth dropped "Why?" he laughed. "This is repeated, louder this time. we'd had. It was only sixty-eight open and my arm shot forward. It fun." The classroom was silent. degrees, but it felt like ninety. Some connected with his cheekbone, just The bell rang. Miss Quinn considered his kids even tried to wear shorts to under his left eye. His cheek was I wanted to say I was sorry. I reply for a moment, still tapping her school and got sent home to change. harder than I thought it would be, even opened my mouth, but I fingers on the open book. "Everyone Itchy came out for recess that day, and I felt my arm tingle and go couldn't force the words out. Instead, face the front of the room, please," and he was wearing a sweatshirt. numb. I pulled it back and watched I turned and walked to my place in she said sharply. She looked thought­ That's what set us off. He was wear­ Itchy's head rock back then forward line. I held my fist and stared down fully at Itchy. ing this thick, red sweatshirt with a again. It seemed like everything was at the tips of my shoes. I felt someone Dozens of heads turned huge, black Mickey Mouse head on happening in slow motion. slap my back and say, "Good job," slowly back to page twenty-seven the front, and it was practically July Everyone cheered behind me. but I didn't look up. and the picture of the Villigus Toad. out. It wasn't my fault Itchy didn't Greg and I looked at each other and know. He should have known not to . then Itchy. He didn't turn around. wear a sweatshirt that day. "I better not hear it again or Greg and I walked up to him. someone will be punished." She He was standing by the door, but for

ic A LOSS OF HEARING • MARC SUMNER JULIET RUMINATES IN PINK• A. NEZHUKUMATAHIL America fifteen seconds A miracle is all it took for you to feel real beside myself imperial and now it's funny but I can't control in pear and coal what it is when you look into my eyes A parent cold forbid me not to laugh at Daddy Apparent old when he says I shall learn to love that comical excuse America of a man and so I, I--( exhaling hard with each scandalous America thrust)--you can't tell me how to feel. should I renounce my title and give the bloodless ladies a chance to really smile amongst the stars? oh, Daddy, with your raging purple tights prancing 'round the banquet hall don't think I haven't seen you come out of the pantry with those women, your skin all aflush, their skin like the pink of newborn rats-- and doesn't that one have your nose? oh, Daddy, it's you I can get to. you know how full circle this all is. I think I'm growing pale-- but I just need your morbid approval and I'll down this baby to be with mine own. how else can I justify this illness? come fast, if only to see him see my eyes, I'd take a sip for you too.

f

Mosaic yi!"\s ic / ' A CAB RIDE CONFESSION • COURTNEY STEWART

"If only we were alone," he sometimes when I am walking feeling powerful. No one was there the next room, down the hall, sitting whispered. His whispers were hot, around campus I will be in a trance and I didn't need anyone. I was right next to me. Although I may not wet, and thick with the stench of and half remember it. As if I could finally alone. be able to escape all the humans on wine. I put a hand over my ear. He exist in two places at once, I am both campus, at least I don't have to adjusted his pant leg and I could away in the city at school and still My mother tells me because spend time with anyone. I go for hear the moan behind the sigh. He part of me is home with him. of God I am never alone. Not that I long walks by myself through the was sitting next to me on the couch. believe what she says anymore-- least city at night. In the night on the He was hot; the sweat beaded up on When I would hide in my of all that. She would always drag streets I am whole and without the top of his bald waxy head. I room I could hear them below me. me to church with her. When I was memory. The darkness wraps hated to look at him. He put a hand They would eat, talk and walk in eighth grade she would make me around me and keeps me safe. I am on top of my head; it was like a huge around, but mostly I could hear the wear ill-fitting dresses. From behind never afraid. There is a rhythm heavy paw that covered my entire television. I could never play my his wine-induced haze he would under the sidewalks, among all the scalp, pushing my hair into my eyes. stereo loud enough, shout loud point at me, nodding with a lopsided people going places, lurking with the In slow motion the paw began to enough to take them away. He was grin. He never came with us, but it homeless in doorways, sounding out slide down the side of my face, always there. I wanted more than was enough of a lie already. in car horns and beeping busses, and dropping down slowly. The T.V. was anything else to be alone. Being Halfway through the church the rhythm pushes my steps, turning on too loud, so it seemed like the around people is so much harder service my stomach would growl my walks into dances. man was screaming as the rhinos than being alone, and there are while my mother gave me the most Once at work my boss told charged. His hand was still sliding always people around. ungodly looks. When I came home I me she had seen me walking at and in a minute it would land in my would grab some fruit out of the night. She was perhaps as old as my lap, his fingers curling inside my I had a dream where I was refrigerator. It was on those Sundays mother, but she never looked beaten thighs. A baby rhino was going into alone. I was eating lunch in the he would come up and slip his hands or defeated, angry or upset. She the muddy water. I pushed his arm student union. There were thou­ under my dress. His thick, calloused smiled through wrinkles (it made her away while I stood. "Where is the sands of people pushing up against hands played with the elastic on my long, plain face beautiful) and controller?" He yelled into my eyes. each other, pushing up against me. I underpants. The middle of his right laughed if I mis-filed something for He called out beyond me, "Hunn ... hated seeing so many students hand was divided by a yellow scar the three hundreth time. "Oh, what Where is the controller?" around me talking and laughing. A curling out from between his middle am I going to do with you?" she My mother was carrying red-hot fist of hatred squeezed and and index fingers; the scar is grating always asked me. She feigned popcorn into the room as I left. "You kneaded my stomach. I was drown­ on my skin. I hated looking at his exasperation well, but just when I aren't going to watch with us?" Her ing in people, noise, and claustropho­ hard hands more than I hated his fat, was about to apologize she would voice was a worried whine. "I made bia. I wanted to scream and cry and square face. When I looked upset at giggle. This time, she added, "Child, all this popcorn." pound my fists into their soft stom­ what he did he laughed. "Oh stop," don't you know it's not safe to walk achs; I wanted to throw up on them he'd say. "I'm just teasing. Do you in the city by yourself at night?" I have dreams like that some­ and watch them twitch in horror. think I would try anything with your What she didn't understand was times. When I can't quite wake up When I blinked everyone was gone. mother in the next room?" when I walked I was more than safe-­ for work or class, I hit snooze on my It was such a relief, I was elated. I I was happy. alarm and begin to dream. Or turned on the jukebox and danced, There is always someone in

Mosaic Mosaic There was one time at home I the cellar stairs as I started to get up. made him stop kissing me. They when I pass the open doors, girls thought I was safe. My mother had He pushed me down. I grabbed onto were coming slowly, as if the person inside watching television. I'd rather gone shopping. Not thinking he was the hand rails so that I wouldn't were afraid of what she would find. not chatter. I don't fit in with the rest home, I turned the stereo up loud. I stumble down the steps. He turned His fingers were digging in around of them, and that is more right than made my own kind of noise. Being on the basement lights and followed my shoulder blades. I turned my wrong. I am starting over. I enjoy alone meant safety, and this was the behind me. "It's okay. There's head and saw my pale mother. She getting used to being alone. I en­ first time I remember being alone. It nowhere you can go, no one else you looked so old; her lips were a thin joyed my long walks at night, my was almost terrifying, but also can tum to. It's okay." I was crying, _ white line. Her make-up lay on her classes, my job. exhilarating. I was yelling and confused, hot. My cheek hurt. The face, almost separate from her white In this mess of everything pounding my feet and hands, eyes basement smelled musty. The yellow complexion, like the way my grand­ being a-okay, I decided I would go closed and the music pounding. lights created shadows that were mother looked at her funeral. I see this band I like play a club in the How could I see him? But he was more prominent to me than light. noticed the basement was actually southeast side of town. As the cab there. He must have watched me for The air down there felt cool and very bright. I noticed my shirt was ride got longer the streets became a few minutes before he slapped my damp on my skin. He put his arms not covering me, but unbuttoned and more narrow, the street lights less face. around me and began kissing me, barely hanging at my elbows. I bright. The noise and the hub of the "What the hell are you do­ gently this time, all over my face, noticed his belt was unbuckled, his school with its nearby bars and ing?" His eyes look almost set inside softly. I cried a screaming, moaning fly open. He was looking at my restaurants diminished. My driver his face, and the iris is so light a blue kind of cry. mother, and when he looked at me turned and asked me if my doors it disappears inside the white. I have "Shh .. . " he said between the his face was red and tight, a clenched were locked, as he pushed down on never seen his eyes look more promi­ kisses. He filled the whole room and fist. He lunged, the white eyes were his already locked door. But at the nent on his face than that afternoon. I couldn't do anything. He was coming at me as he threw me against club I was safe inside the dark walls He then put his scarred hand to my everywhere. His hands were on my the wall. I hit the wood panelling and the smell of pot. now burning cheek, and the left hand skin, comforting me. I had an over­ with a thud. I was pulling at my When the band began its set I on the top of my head. It felt like he whelming sense of feeling nothing, a shirt trying to cover myself while he inched my way to the front. As they was trying to push my head down, to quiet confusion, being lost inside his punched me. He stood in the played I was mesmerized by them: push me into the floor head first. He hands and his kisses. I felt so weak I lamplight; my mother was screaming by the singer and the way his face kissed my other cheek, licked it and didn't know how to resist. Instead, I behind him in the shadows. I didn't contorted as he approached the bit it. I tried to pull away, but he concentrated on the sound of gravel know what was happening, just microphone, and his hands moved held my head firmly in his hard . crunching outside and a car door slaps, punches and kicks, grunting separately from his body on the hands. My arms were flailing, slamming. I listened to the sound of and spitting. guitar, by the bassist who drifted hitting his smooth scalp, punching the front door squeaking when it around stage, and the drummer who his sides. "Oh stop," he hissed in my opened and groceries being dropped My mother told me that actively sat in his place. The bass ear. "Don't you know we're alone?" to the kitchen floor. It was so very school was a place where I could was turned up so high, and I was so I pulled away and ran. I far away. begin my life, to make things right. I near the speakers that the deep didn't know where to tum; I didn't "Are you down there?" nodded listlessly. I stand apart; I vibration was caught inside my know where I was going. He man­ He held my shoulders tightly. have no friends. They have jokes chest. It beat my heart for me, it aged to trip me. We were in front of The sound of footsteps on the stairs about me. I hear them whispering pounded inside my internal organs. SUNSET•JAMES TOMAS I had so thoroughly melted into the wanted to scream and cry and stomp. Through a broken window music, into watching them, that I I wanted cars and people. I wanted stares a shattered man couldn't think anything; I didn't feel to huddle myself inside the girls in at a shrinking sloop anything but the bass in my empti­ the dorm. I wanted to be mugged to calmly cutting ness. validate my fear, to make me as the jagged It was several hours past stripped and robbed as I felt. All that blue midnight. There were no people, no blood, all that screaming and crying, cars, no noise. I wished for any kind and the ground was so dirty and of interruption to my loneliness. The cold. My face was on the hard realization that I was the only person cement of the basement floor, my lips in the world terrified me. It was so tasting the dirt. The sidewalk was a unreasonable; all I ever wanted was hard, dark path leading me in an empty world. But the stores with straight lines. I listened to the elec­ chain-links pulled down to protect tric buzz of the street lights; I waited them from the night, the silent for someone to save me. I walked streets, the emptiness was too real. quickly, rushing forward, hoping to He was punching and kicking at my find civilization or a cab. I listened to face. The wet night air was his my mother screaming behind him as breath on the back of my neck. In all I waited for it to end. Eventually it the blank emptiness I felt fear, him did end, there was a cab, he stopped touching me. Everything I had never hitting me. I was taken to the hospi­ allowed myself to feel before was on tal, but it still felt like he was on top me. The hollowness in my chest, the of me, touching me, hitting me, with tightness in my throat, panic beating my head on the cement. I am in a heart. cab, but it still feels like I am alone on The street stretching out the street. I still have nowhere to go, before me was so vast-- there were no nowhere I belong. I am still alone. cars, no cabs, no subways past There is no way to make it right. midnight, no way to go back. I

Mosaic TI-IE LOCAL SUPERHEROES • MARK GLOVER WANDERING GROUNDS•STEVEN JOST Crippled-crush autumn passes over like a sound fingers warm bodies bottled up in the sky worn pink velvet i curl up like i'm a kitten Glove rubbing my head on her ankles street superheroes groping off wandering somewhere far away for love i've convinced myself she doesn't understand my fear of small places and how she tells me it's sad to disappear

alone, i dream of fallen leaves bare trees remind me of her hands i don't know why i'm on the ground and she won't answer her door

Mo ic MULIEBRITY • ADAM GRAY

Harold was a boob. Large "Madeline! Hey Madeline. I Harold she didn't need to be a should have told Harold about the and hairless, his skin Cremora white, forgot to grab my cocoa butter soap. woman. She didn't need to be Admiral. vanilla plain, all he was missing was It's in my bag. Bring it here. Now." anything but a collection of actions. "Tell me again." he replied, a profound pink nipple, a raised The voice from the bathroom echoed Washer. Buyer. Bringer. Toucher. It giggling and heaving, ''Tell me again fleshy manhole on his back or head. as though the small room were a was so cut and dry, emotionless. She about the night." Instead there were his cheeks, dark cave, deafening all other sounds or needn't think of her. body or face or "Harold ... " pink, the color of red through the ideas. She brought Harold the soap, ability to please a man. It had been a "Come on, Madeline, you washer five or six times too many. unable to avoid the sight of his long year since she had held the know it relaxes me, and I'm nervous When he rolled over in bed bloated ass exposed from behind the dream of receiving pleasure herself. about the tournament. Come on. Madeline always thought of a walrus half hanging shower curtain. "And Madeline had never felt pretty, not You wanted to surprise him on the spinning on the shore, fat and help­ get me some breakfast, would ya?" even as a child, when all girls some­ boat. Come on ... " less. Images like that made it impos­ he yelled, either not realizing or not times felt pretty. She had lived forty­ "I wanted to surprise him on sible to take pleasure in their sex, for caring that her ear was only a few five years in her body when she his boat." his breath, like fish packed in his feet away. Harold was the only started dating Harold, but it might as "Yeah. Yeah. So you went on gums, would not let her forget or Scrabble player Madeline had ever well have been two-hundred. board. Come on ..." ignore. But she did it, opened herself been with that didn't talk like a Harold emerged from the "I went on board." for him in a string of motels named Scrabble player. His oral vocabulary bathroom in a towel that didn't begin "Ha ha! Yes. Oh, this is great. for cars, always with a missing was crude and limited, filled with to cover his width. He was disgust­ It's funnier each time. You went on television knqb or half hanging "good" and "bitch" and "fat" and ing, his whole left leg revealed, white board and found him there in ..." but shower curtain. After all, he was "eat." If only once in a while he and pink and speckled with bruises Harold couldn't finish, as he was taking her to Delray Beach with him, would say "obese," or even "portly," and veins and red dots. She tried to doubled over with laughter, rolling which is where she needed to be. it might be bearable. Why couldn't think of something else, something on the bed, his towel having slipped The tournament had taken he consume pork chops? that would please her. off. Walrus. Happy Walrus. "Harold, do you think the Madeline paced quietly into two years to organize. Madeline Though she ~arely acknowl­ could remember when she first heard edged it, Madeline knew why she Admiral will be there?" she asked, the bathroom, though it was still hot about it. She belonged to the Admi­ was with him. After the disaster not looking at him but at the brown, with steam and reeked of unflushed ral then, living on his fishing boat, with the Admiral she felt repulsive, Idaho-shaped stain on the pillow. shit. the Scrabbler, baiting his lines, unwomanly in every way, in every Immediately she knew she had made "Come on. Hee hee. You listening to him beautify the words movement and touch. What the a mistake. Stupid, stupid. There was went on board and found him, she loved with his British accent. Admiral had done went against no way to casually bring up the prancing around, hee hee, dancing The only other British accent she had every version of "right" that she had Admiral, no way to ask just a simple there in ladies' panties, dancing ever heard was the Beatles', and ever known. At the time she question without the conversation around like a fairy. " She couldn't see those did his no justice. She won­ thought he was incurably ill, and fully shifting focus. Every mention him but knew Harold was holding dered if the Admiral would be there, that she had caused the illness of the Admiral filled Harold with a his wrists to his shoulders and in Delray, at the tournament. somehow, in some way. With . glow of superiority. She never fluttering his hands. "Like a little J\IA • i 'V]OSatc. fairy." She brushed her teeth and fingers and returned to the bedroom. child's bedroom would be too much the rooms and hallways. The first hated Harold, passionately, com­ A few more days she would stay to bear. What she wanted was a thing she did was check out the play­ pletely. "Like a little fag fairy." And with him. After that it didn't matter. large hand on her shoulder, dirty and ers' list printed outside the Marriot's she could hear the heavy thumps of But where else could she go? with hairy knuckles and possessing main ballroom. Her eyes scanned the Harold's stampings as he danced the odor of shoe polish that she list twice, three times, actually memo­ around the room like a little fag fairy. During the long drive to associated with perfect days spent at rizing certain clumps of names. The "Like a little fag fairy." She couldn't Delray from Cleveland, Madeline work with daddy. The love ended, Admiral's name was not listed. In a believe she told him. would pretend to sleep. Sometimes transformed to guilt, that she could way she was relieved, for the Admiral Madeline wiped her hand she would have to speak to him, for drive such a man away. Thirty-five would be spared the verbal cracks and across the mirror, revealing an no one can sleep forever, but she years later there was only numbness. whips that Harold, and everyone unfocused slice of her face, from the tried to limit these occasions as much She thought she may have whom Harold had told, would un­ middle of her forehead to her bottom as possible. She knew it was inane, seen him once, in 1982, when her leash upon him. They were like PTA lip. Distorted by the steam, the but the drive, this drive in particular, mother died of lung cancer. The mothers, gossiping and justifying their mirror did not show the blue-purple made her think of her father. This funeral took place in the heat of existences by acting in herds. Harold tents that camped beneath her eyes, would have been the same network August, at Erie View Cemetery in was the Pete Moyhanin and "Scooter" as it did not show the network of of roads he used when he left the Cleveland Heights. Madeline had Phelps, giving and receiving noogies wrinkles that destroyed her face each country almost forty years ago, tired of the mourners and criers and with the same squinting face. time she tried to smile. She felt the supposedly heading towards Cuba. had stepped away from the group in Madeline had been with Pete once, for urge to wipe clean the entire mirror, He may have slept in the same dingy order to collect her thoughts. That a couple of months back in 1979. The so that it would not show the gray motels or eaten in the same greasy was when she saw the man, a hun­ event she remembered most fondly, hair infecting her nest of wavy holes. Madeline's mother had al­ dred feet away, leaning against a tree, which was the only event she remem­ brown, so that it would not show the ways insisted that her father had left facing the most recently unearthed bered fondly at all, was a spur of the sagging of her slight breasts or the the country because the government grave, her mother's. Madeline did moment trip to Las Vegas, where she veins, dark and staining, that were thought he was dangerous. Even as not approach him. What would she and Pete lost everything but his Buick beginning to weave their way a small child Madeline doubted that say if ... ? and her gold-sprayed watch, the one through her thighs. any shoe salesman would pose a "Madeline. Wake up. We're her father had sent her from Havana "Madeline! Set up a practice threat to any government, thinking at the Marriot. Get the ticket from for her 18th birthday. Of course, Pete board! The tournament is in two more that her mother was trying to the parking guy." The invasion of had more hair then, and not such a days, you know." Harold had protect her, trying to lie, but to this Harold's voice kept her from think­ large beer belly. They were all fat now. stopped prancing and dancing and day she knew of no other explana­ ing too hard. Pete, Mike DeLonga, Mike Never, was draining a Natural Light that he tion for his disappearance. It was a sunny day when Pudge, Mike Kugle. Many were kept in his Spuds McKenzie cooler. For a while young Madeline Madeline entered the dramatic door names from her past, when she was at "And what about breakfast?" loved her father, would cry at night that led to the lobby. For the next least a little reckless and carefree. But Madeline brushed away the when the sometimes ruthless Lake few days the only source of sun no Admiral. beginnings of tears with her pinky Erie storms and the darkness of a would be the bright fluorescence in She thought about the Admiral · Mosaic so often. It wasn't that she wanted to counter in Handley's Toy and Hobby nity of Scrabble players he was a Atoll. Her heart rippled and quaked date him; she just wanted him to Shop. With her future so uncertain, stud, cool and smooth and confident, like a blender. He prepared the . know that she now understood that the last thing on her mind was gently fiddling his mustache as his board, insisting that Madeline go every person had hidden chambers another man, especially another fingers traced over his hidden vow­ first. She refused, of course, but and private longings. And limits. Scrabble player. However, her els and consonants. Madeline forgot Silver would not take no for an Everyone had limits, when life instincts had been groomed and where she had been heading and sat answer. becomes too patterned and predict­ focused over the last twenty-five down a few tables away, immedi­ "This is embarrassing." she able, when old morals and goals years. ately turning letters over on an said after staring at her display of wouldn't fit into new years or into She wandered into a practice unused board. Well groomed and letters for a good minute. 'Tm not new bodies. That .was why she had room to avoid the herd of players focused instinct. Then he spoke. very good at this game." And she come to Delray, to say good-bye to an barking in the lobby. Her steps were "Excuse me, miss. Yes. Over laid down three tiles, 'L-1-E', over the old life. It would have required a light and easy, as she thought herself here. Yes. Will you be partaking in middle square. Avoiding his eyes, shitload of bravery, more bravery to be alone. When she heard the the festivities this afternoon?" she wrote down the number 6 in her than Madeline had every known, but gentle scraping of Scrabble tiles she "Oh no. Not me. I'm not very point column and selected new she had hoped that the Admiral froze for a moment, slouched her good. I just like, just watching. The letters. would show. They could have gone shoulders, and lowered her eyes. A games. I enjoy watching. The "Normally one must open through it together. darting glance took in the whole of games." She hadn't been expecting with at least a four letter word, but in It was to be Madeline's last the room. In the corner sat a man him to speak. She hadn't been ready this case I think we can make an fling as a Scrabble groupie. The whose name she had heard and for him to speak. exception." he smiled, and left it at words no longer aroused her, the whose face was somewhat familiar. "I would greatly benefit with that. Dammit, she knew that. She players no longer displayed sexual His name was Rick Silver and he was the addition of a practice opponent. had been watching people play confidence as they laid down their relatively new on the circuit, though Are you sure you will not coadunate Scrabble for almost thirty years and letters. Harold was to be the last, already building a solid reputation as with me?" she knew that. though she was having difficulty a player. "Pardon?" she asked, a bit too Silver studied his letters for a stepping out the door. Eventually Silver fell closer to thirty than breathy, crossing her legs, trying to moment, and then lifted all seven. In she would though, and she would forty, though without his sharp black smile without creasing her face. front of the 'L' he placed 'M-U' and probably have to get a job again. She mustache he might have passed for "Join me. Would you like to after the 'E' he set down 'B-R-1-T-Y'. had managed to avoid working for his late twenties. His features were join me?" Madeline dropped her left leg and the last six or seven years, living off dark, his face almost weasley, his "I guess I could." She didn't pinched herself out of a trance. of the Scrabble players instead. eyes thin and darting. In the com­ look up. . "Mulib ... muliebrity. What is Before that she had rotated dead-end munity of men he was slightly "Delightful." that?" jobs with financial support from the greasy, a bit overweight, overstyled, She sauntered awkwardly When she lifted her eyes he men she was sleeping with. In the underclassed, and a victim of mis­ over to his table, noticing some of the was staring into the core of her, his early Seventies she held one job for guided fashion, as his short frosted words on his board before he cleared eyes a woody shade of brown sur­ almost two years, sitting behind the hair surely showed. In the commu- them. Engram. Moquette. Hobnail. rounded by a perfect cloudy white. Mas ic Mosaic "Femininity. A kind of es­ The Admiral used to read the word. He never lined up his letters way to Harold's game. He smiled sence of woman thing." he said in a dictionary as if it were the Bible, perfectly. She hated that. and muttered a greeting, but his half whisper. studying each word, gaining moral The opening ceremony charm was distant and muffled. He Madeline blushed and di­ enlightenment. Madeline would brought a cautious smile to knew. He knew of Harold, of her, of rected her eyes to the scorecard. hear the sounds of the turning pages Madeline's face, since she knew most her past. While Harold played she "I'm down almost a hundred and his feet swirling the harbor of the players took it quite seriously. thought of Silver, of how she must points already." water, see his slender outline blurred There was an explanation of the look to him. Sexless. Fragile. She Silver shrugged, obviously in the overwhelming glow of the tournament and of the rules, a was no better than the men she had void of ego. That was what she dock lights and know, just know that comedian named Woody the once been with - awkward and missed the most; the unbreakable, her life was real and worth living. Wordman, and a speech by the desperate. Certainly Silver could tell. tamed confidence. The Admiral had Harold did not read the dictionary. tournament organizer and author of His flirtation had been kindness, or it. Silver had it. She knew it after His talent was natural, unearned, the best-seller "Language as God: The pity, or perhaps he had been practic­ only one word. He was a master, and gave his ego an outlet, that if Scrabble Doctrine." The ceremony ing for someone else, someone who commanding the board like a WWII nothing else - if his flesh was flabby, did give Madeline a chance to check still knew of spirit. She longed for field general, dispersing troops and his hair thin, his odor rancid - he out the players. All but three of the the Admiral and his gentleness. He sacrificing soldiers without losing could still kick someone's ass on the sixty-four were men. The only used to tell her she was beautiful all sight of the ultimate goal. Yet his Scrabble board. woman that looked familiar to her the time, and sexy. She never be­ power was calm and intellectual. "Ten minutes. Gimme a was a New Yorker named Marie lieved him, but hearing it used to Madeline played with him for only backrub." Harold said as Madeline whom she had spoken to at a con­ somehow make it true, like when her fifteen minutes, unable to take any was putting her purse together in vention last fall. However, the men high school art teacher, Mr. Shweps, more, and knowing Harold would be their pastel bathroom. "Nevermind. were almost all familiar. Many used to claim genius and depth in looking for her. The last thing she Let's go." would give her glances from behind her teenage paintings, speaking of wanted was a scene. When she left There were sixty-four players their programs, or hurl a wink from souls and loves and times of mourn­ the scorecard read 298-52. in all. By five o'clock there would be across the table. She didn't care all ing, though all she had been thinking "I hope to be in your presence sixteen, each one havii:tg survived a that much. They were fat and ridicu­ of when painting were colors and again." he said as she entered the game of four. By eight there would lous, tired and impotent. The sparks shapes. There was no one around doorway. She half turned her face, be four left, and they would play the that once lit their minds had dulled her to lie to her anymore, to fill her pausing momentarily in the great next day. Madeline observed that and headed south, expanding into with a sense of muliebrity (mu-lie­ brightness of the hallway. She Silver was not scheduled to play gall stones and goiters. Half of them brity), and now her colors were flashed a nervous smile, hoping it Harold unless they both made it to would sell their soul to touch a fading and her shapes were sagging. would reach him through the heavy the finals. She didn't have to sit by breast. Harold won, defeating Mike weeds she imagined between herself Harold's side, for that was against Madeline left the ceremony Never, Hound Dog Falknort, and a and everyone. And then she walked the rules, but felt obligated, forced, to the second it was over, and happened skinny Korean affectionately known away. sit in the room where he was playing, to pass Silver in the hallway on her as Mucky. He tried to remain watching him fumble out every humble, and succeeded for almost a full minute after his final word, 'R-U­ how weak she had become. Once in Soon after his wailing he passed out, and plates angrily until each patch of N', gave him a seventy-five point her pink and fluffy room she climbed but his still mass landed right in the batter was dead and forgotten. lead over Hound Dog and emptied into bed to rest, to ease her mind, but middle of the bed. She slept on the It had always been some man. his letter tray. Madeline didn't see it fell asleep, sinking in her dreams right edge of it, her left arm dangling Now it was Harold. Instead of herself, for she was straightening instead of treading in her day. She out, her right knee bent unnaturally. pancakes there were practice boards herself in the ladies room, but was slept through the second round, The morning was always so bright in and unwanted sex, but she had never told that Hound Dog actually threw which Harold won. Silver won his such a forbidding way. Ever since known another way. The Admiral a punch at Harold. He apparently games as well, and they would face childhood, Madeline had woken up had tried to teach her, had seen some tripped over the table leg as he tried each other in the final match. to the sickening sweet smell of potential in her, but Madeline proved to do this and cracked his head on pancakes and waffles, though she stubborn, unwilling to learn, set in the chair instead. What would the Admiral tell realized it was only her imagination. the views of womanhood and depen­ Madeline was exhausted, her to do? He was wise in a televi­ The smell took the form of an inter­ dence that she had always known. almost permanently now, it seemed. sion sitcom kind of way, in the way nal alarm clock that aroused images He wanted to know abut her family, The same thoughts of Harold and that any problem .could find its of her mother, slaving away every and she would not tell. He wanted Silver and the Admiral and the resolution in twenty-two minutes. morning at the ugly green stove in to know why Madeline never played possible corridors her future might Life was not a TV show and prob­ the matchbox kitchen. Her mother Scrabble, and she had no answer. He take, the same images, the same lems were always more complex. would never smile or whistle as she wanted to know why she was con­ feelings entered and left her quickly, But with the Admiral it all seemed so made the pancakes or waffles. She tent to follow assholes around the uncomfortably,. dashing to get back simple. Will it to be so, and it would made pancakes and waffles because country, and she had no answer. She into line again. She couldn't do it. be. She knew what he would say, both of her husbands, Madeline's had lied. She wanted to tell him She couldn't handle the tragic woes what advice he would give. He father and later her stepfather, now. Her obsession had begun when of independent thought or the new, would just say to feel good, to give wanted pancakes and waffles. She she was nine, when in the attic she mysterious desire to leave her old depth to the cardboard cut-out that woke up at 6:30 A.M. because that found the old Scrabble board her world of silent rage and Scrabble had been standing in for her soul for was the time the husband woke up, father had played on, stained with boards behind. It was too easy to be years. If only it could he that simple, and she knew no different. Over the the thick familiar circles of a beer can. miserable, always blaming Harold or she thought, crouching i)'.l the tower­ years the odor became a part of She still thought he was going to the Admiral or her father, wherever ing shadow of her future, to not fear Madeline's features, permanently come back and she wanted to be he was, or God, or the void where a. coming out into the light. residing inside her nostrils, always ready. Then he never did. She put god would reside, and then not Morning was upon her and waking her with a morning stroll. the board away again when she was doing anything abut it. While she was not a morning person. It Her mother had hated pancakes and fourteen or so. But the passion had Harold and his friends attacked hadn't helped that Harold had waffles, too. Every morning after the imprinted on her. She associated the "Hooligan's," the hotel bar, Madeline woken her up at 2 A.M., drunk and husband left for work she would language of the game with the very slipped into the elevator, unnoticed. spitting, yelling at her about not light up a cigarette and her smile power of man, the power she had Only when she lifted her arm to making it to the match and yelling at would drip off her face and into the been taught to revere. There was no press the "11'' button did she realize her for still having her clothes on. sink and she would scrub the pans way she could play, no way she

ic could compete. Her stepfather gets along with him. DeLonga says would sever those strings clean. might take. hadn't played and he was a wimp, he refuses to talk to any of the guys." Cleveland wasn't a home any more. Marie began the game, spell­ the anti-man, everything she decided Madeline turned away, Her mother was dead and her stepfa­ ing 'D-I-A-T-0-M'. Silver followed, she didn't want in a lover or compan­ deciding that she liked Silver even ther always had been. She pictured using Marie's 'M' to form 'M-I-R-T­ ion. This is what the Admiral had more. She was also more convinced herself in a boat, the Admiral's boat, H', collecting a double word score. wanted to know, had wanted her to than ever that he was out of her drifting off to the grave that was the His movements were graceful and know. league, too young, too golden. For sea. She'd find the Admiral and a effortless, as if he were only a ma­ Harold woke up about an the big event she pulled her hair back thousand like him, friendless out­ chine, placing before him a predeter­ hour after Madeline had, grumbling and applied a tasteful assortment of casts, too lonely even to be friends mined set of wooden tiles. Harold abut his hangover, peeing at least Maybelline. She wore a long flowery with each other. Was she prepared ruined the harmony of the board by three times. Madeline stayed in bed skirt, rich with green and purple, and for this life? throwing his letters violently down, as long as she could. a snowy white blouse. The Admiral The final game began at one spelling 'Z-E-N-I-T-H', and getting a "After I win the tournament had given it to her. o'clock in the afternoon. Madeline triple word score on the 'Z'. Each and collect my cash I'm going to take If he wasn't in Delray, where wondered what the weather was like turn his lead grew larger, until his a trip. You can come if you want, but was he? She toyed with the notion outside. The showdown took place nearest opponent, Silver, sank fifty you'll have to pay for it yourself. that he had gone back to England, in the main ballroom, the ballroom points behind. Reno maybe. Or Houston." he called but thought it was unlikely. His that seemed designed for Mr. and Nothing much caught from the bathroom. home was in the United States; any Mrs. Goldberg to entertain all the Bar Madeline's interest but the continual He didn't expect a response, friends he may have left would be Mitzvah guests at once. The players alternation of red and black. and she didn't offer one. Without there. About a year before, Neil were Harold, Silver, Marie Harold's presence and the presence Harold she had no way to get back to Smithy had told her that the Admiral Antonellie, the woman Madeline had of the other animals in the crowd Cleveland, a minor detail she had had been spotted in Tempe working spoken to, and a bald old man kept her from enjoying the game she previously chosen not to consider, in a seafood restaurant. She had named Ralph Waldorf, baked and had loved for years. She wanted apparently assuming that leaving always doubted the story, but it was caked from the Florida sun. Harold Silver to win, but passion was dead. Harold would solve all problems as likely as any other. Where would and Silver were clearly the front­ The players said little and the on­ somehow. She hated when her she go? That was the question her runners, for they had the experience lookers only rocked their heads back mental blocks proved to be obvious mind kept returning to. It might as and the reputation. Madeline settled and forth, as if a tennis match were and obtrusive. She turned to him as . well be a seafood restaurant in into a seat near Harold, purposely unfolding before them. It was he pulled up his weathered tan Tempe, or a movie theater in Mem­ out of sight from Silver's slitted gaze. Harold who finally invaded her slacks, and almost giggled out loud phis, or a tanning salon in New Her own eyes were constantly fo­ numbness, about halfway through as he stretched and yanked his belt Haven. Her life was held together by cused on the floor, concentrating on the game, when Marie made the until it would fasten at the first hole. two strings, strings formed of tradi­ the red and black stripes that made word 'P-A-N-T-1-E-S'. "Do you know Rick Silver?" tion and habit, and leaving Harold up the carpet. In about an hour she "Hey. That sounds like a "I know who he is. Little and Scrabble and the people she had was going to reach the crossroads, word the Admiral would make." punk from what I can tell. Nobody known for the last twenty-five years and she had no idea what path she And the crowd roared. Mike Never exclaimed "whoopie" and Pete letters, and no amount of grace caught Madeline, and this time bobbing heads and gaping mouths Moyhanin clapped his hands sting­ could lift him out of defeat. Once Madeline held the stare tightly, behind them. ingly, crouched over laughing. None again beauty had been conquered by desperate to hold onto something. "Damn. I'm sorry I had to of the players knew how to react, for the ugliness that was the world, that The mouth before her formed beat her." Harold muttered, and his they didn't get the joke. Harold's flavored it. On his way out Silver a familiar smile. "It's nice to see you friends nodded in sile~t agreement. belly climbed and fell to the beat of placed a gentle stare on Madeline's again, Madeline." she said, but she Madeline could not think of his zealous squeals. Mike DeLonga eyelashes, apparently to see if she was not a she, and he was not a New what to think. The Admiral hadn't actually collapsed to the floor. It was would hold it, but her eyes sank to Yorker. He then gave her the perfect lost or failed. He had become what the end, Madeline thought, the time the red and black below her and it wink, a wink she had received so Madeline needed to become. He had when the beauty of a man is lost in was there that her dreams of change many times before, beneath the changed his life and forced the world the blind slashing of the masses. She would lie. Pacific stars, the tide rocking her to to accept him. He had ventured out had nowhere to go. She didn't have "Madeline, baby, I did it. I sleep. Madeline gasped, but man­ on his own and not only survived, the strength to turn her back to the got my money. Now let's get outta aged to hold in her tongue. Then the but flourished. He had won. She laughter of the crowd, to lead and here." Harold grinned as his friends mask reappeared, and he was once realized that the question was no not to follow. She~ a woman, but patted him on his back and neck and again a she, and she walked away. longer where she would go, but not womanly. Her destiny was to ass. He couldn't stop smiling, "Yeah, I'm comin' Brucie." where she wouldn't. Independence cook and clean and beg and fuck and wouldn't stop smiling. Madeline All traces of the Admiral were was not about direction, but rather take and take and take until she was didn't even hesitate. She quietly put gone and Marie strode across the honesty and pride. filled completely with the circuitry of her purse together, inserting her room, each step a vision of womanly Madeline looked at Harold a robot, pointless unless directed, lipstick and half eaten baggy of Rold form, of muliebrity. Harold and his for the last time, a short sad look that blank unless a man would need her Gold pretzels, and prepared to walk friends stopped their conversation pleased her. Silver had gone out the mind for paper. The Admiral had back to the room with Harold, into dead, pausing to gawk at the celebra­ other door, the back door, the one tried to live his own life, and he was the dreaded future with Harold. It tion of femininity that glided past that led straight to the parking lot. probably in a gutter somewhere, or was only because the red and black them. At the top of the stairs, Brucie There was still time to catch him, but picking up the 'All You Can Eat' sign was making her nauseous that she took his love by the hand and they only if he wanted. Only if she in front of the seafood buffet bar. He looked up at all. Marie Antonelli left together, leaving a wake of wanted. wasn't strong enough to face the was standing before her. crowd, and she wasn't strong enough "Yeah Brucie, I'll be witcha in to leave it. He let it take away his a minute." she yelled to a man on the only passion, and she couldn't help stairs, her speech laced with the but let it soothe all of hers. If a man Bronx, her attitude strong and as commanding and brave as the feminine. Turning to Madeline her Admiral couldn't do it, how on earth face became surprisingly soft, could she? fragile, yet strong as a face could be Harold won in undramatic that guarded the emotions and WINNER OF THE 1995 ALBERT J. KUHN AWARD fashion. Silver had drawn poor thoughts of a woman. Her eyes FOR EXCELLENCE IN WRmNG, FICTION

Mo~ ic MASCK • MELISSA MILLER AUTHOR BIOGRAPHIES

•PHILIP BUMP • STEVEN JOST I can't help but read the Stranger and I enjoy playing guitar and writing wonder how to die. At home, I've got poetry. I like to eat strawberries and three dogs, each bigger than the one drink orange juice. I also like listening older than it. At school, I live off­ to music. campus (we have a door on the wall of our living room). •DAN MCKEAN Stack & Sticky Born in western Pennsylvania, Dan Gooey •REBECCA M. COOK moved to central Ohio in 1978 and now I am a first year student from Cincinnati, lives in Unionville Center, a small town It's just Looney Ohio, pursuing a degree in either northwest of Columbus. He is an honors Wet & Thick Biology or Chemistry with plans to student studying English and hopes to attend medical school. I enjoy nature as go on to graduate school at Syracuse. On a Prick well as backpacking and camping. I He is married with three children. have been playing the guitar for two years and enjoy writing music. • MELISSA MILLER -ly Brush. This is my fifth and final year at Ohio •MARK GLOVER State. I'm graduating in June with a Yes, I Musi Mark Glover is a graduate of the Univer­ major in English and minors in French Lashes So Lush. sity of Dayton. He has been published and Communication. in the Columbus Literary Gazette, and read poems for both the Columbus Arts •PHILLIP D. NEAL Phil enjoys writing, playing piano, Festival and the Columbus Cultural Arts running, and earning frequent flyer Festival. miles. He does not have a mindless •ADAM GRAY hatred of Michigan. He has never met My name is Adam Grey. This is my first Gordon Gee, but would enjoy thumb­ year at Ohio State. I think I'll major in wrestling him. He hopes to become a English because I don't have anything world-renowned author while maintain­ else to do right now. I was born and ing his artistic integrity, and enjoys other raised in Cleveland, Ohio. I think that impossible tasks as well. baseball needs to work out its problems pretty dam soon. •AIMEE NEZHUKUMATATHIL Aimee is a junior in English who loves •CHERYL HONIGFORD roses, strawberries, and firetrucks. Born Cheryl Honigford is a junior from and bred on the music of Elvis Presley, Ottoville, Ohio majoring in journalism. she now spends any free time she has She has been writing stories for as long trying to get her Chia Pet to grow and as she can remember, but this is one of watching Animaniacs. the few she's actually finished. She hopes to continue writing even after she finally graduates and has to fend for , herself in the "real world." •MICHAEL RAYBURN eCOURTNEYSTEWART PATRONS I am a freshman majoring in English. I am twenty years old and originally After I graduate with a B.A. I plan to from Connecticut. This is my first year attend law school. I have been writing at Ohio State, as I just transferred from Each year, Mosaic relies heavily upon the financial support of f~r three years. I have only gone public the American University in Washington, students, faculty, and friends to make everything possible. In addition with my work the past two years. I plan D.C. I am an English major. to paying for the cost of printing the magazine, these donations allow to become a professional writer in my Mosaic to hold various events such as poetry readings, our annual art free time. •MARC SUMNER Marc Sumner is from the stereotypical, show, and the unveiling ceremony. •ALEXANDER ROBINSON picturesque suburb of Greenhills, Ohio. The editorial board of Mosaic would like to express sincere Raised In New Orleans, he matured in He is a senior majoring in English and Columbus. He is inspired by Langston hopes to see a foreign country or two thanks to the following contributors for the 1994-95 academic year: Hughes, Allen Ginsburg, Amiri Biraka, before he dies. and Sylvia Plath. FRIEND •JAMES TOMAS •MARINA SBROCHI I'm a first-year student and, though my Jeff Hustey My name is Marina Sbrochi, and I am a multiple personalities consider me pretty senior at Ohio State. My major is down to earth, all my friends think I'm SPONSORS English and I am planning on graduat­ crazy. Greg Damico ing this summer! I enjoy reading and David and Mary Citino writing the unusual. Nick Spehar eSEAN SCHNEIDER I am a forth-year Biology major who PATRONS dabbles in poetry in my spare time. I like to rollerblade, ski, and watch Taylor Tower B-movies. Mabel Freeman Paterson/Bradley Hall Phi Beta Sigma

BENEFACTOR Stradley Hall

PHILANTHROPIST Student Events Committee University Honors Center

For more information on contributing to Mosaic, please write to Mosaic magazine c/ o the University Honors Center.