The Autobiography of Red
Page 2
9. If it was not a lie either we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros or we are not.
10. If we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros either we will go along without incident or we will meet Stesichoros on our way back.
11. If we meet Stesichoros on our way back either we will keep quiet or we will look him in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen.
12. If we look Stesichoros in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen either he will tell the truth or he will lie.
13. If Stesichoros lies either we will know at once that he is lying or we will be fooled because now that we are in reverse the whole landscape looks inside out.
14. If we are fooled because now that we are in reverse the whole landscape looks inside out either we will find that we do not have a single penny on us or we will call Helen up and tell her the good news.
15. If we call Helen up either she will sit with her glass of vermouth and let it ring or she will answer.
16. If she answers either we will (as they say) leave well enough alone or we will put Stesichoros on.
17. If we put Stesichoros on either he will contend that he now sees more clearly than ever before the truth about her whoring or he will admit he is a liar.
18. If Stesichoros admits he is a liar either we will melt into the crowd or we will stay to see how Helen reacts.
19. If we stay to see how Helen reacts either we will find ourselves pleasantly surprised by her dialectical abilities or we will be taken downtown by the police for questioning.
20. If we are taken downtown by the police for questioning either we will be expected (as eyewitnesses) to clear up once and for all the question whether Stesichoros was a blind man or not.
21. If Stesichoros was a blind man either we will lie or if not not.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF RED
A ROMANCE
The reticent volcano keeps
His never slumbering plan—
Confided are his projects pink
To no precarious man.
If nature will not tell the tale
Jehovah told to her
Can human nature not survive
Without a listener?
Admonished by her buckled lips
Let every babbler be
The only secret people keep
Is Immortality.
EMILY DICKINSON,
NO. 1748
I. JUSTICE
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Geryon learned about justice from his brother quite early.
————
They used to go to school together. Geryon’s brother was bigger and older,
he walked in front
sometimes broke into a run or dropped on one knee to pick up a stone.
Stones make my brother happy,
thought Geryon and he studied stones as he trotted along behind.
So many different kinds of stones,
the sober and the uncanny, lying side by side in the red dirt.
To stop and imagine the life of each one!
Now they were sailing through the air from a happy human arm,
what a fate. Geryon hurried on.
Arrived at the schoolyard. He was focusing hard on his feet and his steps.
Children poured around him
and the intolerable red assault of grass and the smell of grass everywhere
was pulling him towards it
like a strong sea. He could feel his eyes leaning out of his skull
on their little connectors.
He had to make it to the door. He had to not lose track of his brother.
These two things.
School was a long brick building on a north–south axis. South: Main Door
through which all boys and girls must enter.
North: Kindergarten, its large round windows gazing onto the backwoods
and surrounded by a hedge of highbush cranberry.
Between Main Door and Kindergarten ran a corridor. To Geryon it was
a hundred thousand miles
of thunder tunnels and indoor neon sky slammed open by giants.
Hand in hand on the first day of school
Geryon crossed this alien terrain with his mother. Then his brother
performed the task day after day.
But as September moved into October an unrest was growing in Geryon’s brother.
Geryon had always been stupid
but nowadays the look in his eyes made a person feel strange.
Just take me once more I’ll get it this time,
Geryon would say. The eyes terrible holes. Stupid, said Geryon’s brother
and left him.
Geryon had no doubt stupid was correct. But when justice is done
the world drops away.
He stood on his small red shadow and thought what to do next.
Main Door rose before him. Perhaps—
peering hard Geryon made his way through the fires in his mind to where
the map should be.
In place of a map of the school corridor lay a deep glowing blank.
Geryon’s anger was total.
The blank caught fire and burned to baseline. Geryon ran.
After that Geryon went to school alone.
He did not approach Main Door at all. Justice is pure. He would make his way
around the long brick sidewall,
past the windows of Seventh Grade, Fourth Grade, Second Grade and Boys’
to the north end of the school
and position himself in the bushes outside Kindergarten. There he would stand
motionless
until someone inside noticed and came out to show him the way.
He did not gesticulate.
He did not knock on the glass. He waited. Small, red, and upright he waited,
gripping his new bookbag tight
in one hand and touching a lucky penny inside his coat pocket with the other,
while the first snows of winter
floated down on his eyelashes and covered the branches around him and silenced
all trace of the world.
II. EACH
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Like honey is the sleep of the just.
————
When Geryon was little he loved to sleep but even more he loved to wake up.
He would run outside in his pajamas.
Hard morning winds were blowing life bolts against the sky each one blue enough
to begin a world of its own.
The word each blew towards him and came apart on the wind. Geryon had always
had this trouble: a word like each,
when he stared at it, would disassemble itself into separate letters and go.
A space for its meaning remained there but blank.
The letters themselves could be found hung on branches or furniture in the area.
What does each mean?
Geryon had asked his mother. She never lied to him. Once she said the meaning
it would stay.
She answered, Each means like you and your brother each have your own room.
He clothed himself in this strong word each.
He spelled it at school on the blackboard (perfectly) with a piece of red silk chalk.
He thought softly
of other words he could keep with him like beach and screach. Then they moved
Geryon into his brother’s room.
It happened by accident. Geryon’s grandmother came to visit and fell off the bus.
The doctors put her together again
with a big silver pin. Then she and her pin had to lie still in Geryon’s room
for many months. So began Geryon’s nightlife.
Before this time Geryon
had not lived nights just days and their red intervals.
What’s that smell in your room? asked Geryon.
Geryon and his brother were lying in the dark in their bunk beds Geryon on top.
When Geryon moved his arms or legs
the bedsprings made an enjoyable PING SHUNK SHUNK PING enclosing him from below
like a thick clean bandage.
There’s no smell in my room, said Geryon’s brother. Maybe it’s your socks,
or the frog did you
bring the frog in? said Geryon. What smells in here is you Geryon.
Geryon paused.
He had a respect for facts maybe this was one. Then he heard
a different sound from below.
SHUNK SHUNK PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING
PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING.
His brother was pulling on his stick as he did most nights before sleep.
Why do you pull on your stick?
Geryon asked. None of your business let’s see yours, said his brother.
No.
Bet you don’t have one. Geryon checked. Yes I do.
You’re so ugly I bet it fell off.
Geryon remained silent. He knew the difference between facts and brother hatred.
Show me yours
and I’ll give you something good, said Geryon’s brother.
No.
Give you one of my cat’s-eyes.
No you won’t.
I will.
Don’t believe you.
Promise.
Now Geryon very much wanted a cat’s-eye. He never could win a cat’s-eye when he
knelt on cold knees
on the basement floor to shoot marbles with his brother and his brother’s friends.
A cat’s-eye
is outranked only by a steelie. And so they developed an economy of sex
for cat’s-eyes.
Pulling the stick makes my brother happy, thought Geryon. Don’t tell Mom,
said his brother.
Voyaging into the rotten ruby of the night became a contest of freedom
and bad logic.
Come on Geryon.
No.
You owe me.
No.
I hate you. I don’t care. I’ll tell Mom. Tell Mom what?
How nobody likes you at school.
Geryon paused. Facts are bigger in the dark. Sometimes then he would descend
to the other bunk
and let his brother do what he liked or else hang in between with his face pressed
into the edge of his own mattress,
cold toes balancing on the bed below. After it was over his brother’s voice
got very kind.
You’re nice Geryon I’ll take you swimming tomorrow okay?
Geryon would climb back up to his bunk,
recover his pajama bottoms and lie on his back. He lay very straight
in the fantastic temperatures
of the red pulse as it sank away and he thought about the difference
between outside and inside.
Inside is mine, he thought. The next day Geryon and his brother
went to the beach.
They swam and practiced belching and ate jam-and-sand sandwiches on a blanket.
Geryon’s brother found an American dollar bill
and gave it to Geryon. Geryon found a piece of an old war helmet and hid it.
That was also the day
he began his autobiography. In this work Geryon set down all inside things
particularly his own heroism
and early death much to the despair of the community. He coolly omitted
all outside things.
III. RHINESTONES
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Geryon straightened and put his hands quick under the table, not quick enough.
————
Don’t pick at that Geryon you’ll get it infected. Just leave it alone and let it heal,
said his mother
rhinestoning past on her way to the door. She had all her breasts on this evening.
Geryon stared in amazement.
She looked so brave. He could look at her forever. But now she was at the door
and then she was gone.
Geryon felt the walls of the kitchen contract as most of the air in the room
swirled after her.
He could not breathe. He knew he must not cry. And he knew the sound
of the door closing
had to be kept out of him. Geryon turned all attention to his inside world.
Just then his brother came into the kitchen.
Want to wrestle? said Geryon’s brother.
No, said Geryon.
Why? Just don’t. Oh come on. Geryon’s brother picked up
the empty tin fruit bowl
from the kitchen table and placed it upside down over Geryon’s head.
What time is it?
Geryon’s voice came muffled from inside the fruit bowl. Can’t tell you, said his brother.
Please.
Look for yourself. I don’t want to. You mean you can’t.
The fruit bowl was very still.
You’re so stupid you can’t tell time can you? How old are you anyway? What a jerk.
Can you tie your shoes yet?
The fruit bowl paused. Geryon could in fact tie knots but not bows.
He chose to pass over this distinction.
Yes.
Suddenly Geryon’s brother stepped behind Geryon and seized him by the neck.
This is the silent death hold,
Geryon, in war they use this for knocking out all sentries. With one surprise twist
I can break your neck.
They heard the baby-sitter approaching and Geryon’s brother stepped quickly away.
Is Geryon sulking again?
said the baby-sitter entering the kitchen. No, said the fruit bowl.
Geryon very much wanted
to keep the baby-sitter’s voice out of him. In fact he would have preferred
not to know her at all
but there was one piece of information he needed to get.
What time is it?
he heard himself ask. Quarter to eight, she answered. What time will Mom be home?
Oh not for hours yet,
eleven maybe. At this news Geryon felt everything in the room hurl itself
away from him
towards the rims of the world. Meanwhile the baby-sitter continued,
You better start getting ready for bed, Geryon.
She was taking the fruit bowl off Geryon’s head and moving towards the sink.
Do you want me to read to you?
Your mom says you have trouble going to sleep. What do you like to read?
Bits of words drifted past Geryon’s brain like ash.
He knew he would have to let the baby-sitter go through with this in her wrong voice.
She was standing before him now
smiling hard and rummaging in his face with her eyes. Read the loon book, he said.
This was cagey.
The loon book was an instruction manual for calling loons. At least