Clinton St. Quarterly, Vol. 8 No. 4 | Winter 1986 (Seattle) /// Issue 18 of 24 /// Master# 66 of 73

oyote had spotted Monkey for When Sparrow can’t talk Monkey into walking 10 miles up the beach to Tanah Lot, Coyote accompanies her. Actually, they only make it a mile, to a fancy hotel in Legian. They pretend to be rich tourists and rent a room, in which they romp away good-hearted evasions Sparrow becomes a bird of gaudier plumage, hennaing her hair red. Coyote is twice her age, but kisses her anyhow, when Monkey isn’t looking. Together, the three eat at Kuta’s street stalls, sit on the beach, watch Balinese dances. Coyote is particularly delighted by the story of witch Ragonda. a child-gobbler with sagging breasts and lolling tongue. Coyote and Monkey eat magic mushrooms, at one of the warungs—cheap eating stalls—where ‘‘blue meanies” are served. Coyote and Monkey have strolled two blocks when the psilocybin hits. They collapse in a streetside Hindu-Buddhist shrine, erupting cosmic laughter. Coyote goggles the passing throng, more vibrant and colorful than ever. Turning to say something to Monkey he finds a furry Asian simian, laughing through sharp teeth. Coyote throws back his head and howls, displaying his canines. Hours later the high runs out as the last light drains from a crimson-saffron sunset into the Indian Ocean. tan Australia. Bamboo huts hide among the palms, strollers wear colorful sarongs sculptured gods guard bridges and temples, banana plants and water buffalo are everywhere. The bemo driver parks and leads them down a path to a losman—a cheap lodging house—off in the trees about a mile from Kuta. Coyote rents a small room with two beds, a wardrobe, table and kerosene lamp. Out on the covered porch are chairs and a table for morning bananas and tea. Monkey and Sparrow settle in next door. Coyote listens to Monkey and Sparrow at play, through the woven- frond wall. Sparrow’s passionate chirps excite him. Coyote had spotted Monkey for the shaman-joker of Asia right off. Monkey has come out to meet the trickster-hero from North America. “Funny, you don’t look Chinese,’’ Coyote jokes. “No more than you look Chinook,” laughs Monkey. Coyote teases Sparrow mercilessly, breaking down her English reserve. He tickles her despite her girlish giggles and trickster-hero from North America. "Funny, you don't look Chinese," Coyote jokes. "No more than you look Chinook/ laughs Monkey. rom the dank tropical edge of the arid Australian dreamscape, a single jetplane arrows eastward once each Thursday to Bali, isle of heavenly delights. American Coyote, Golden Darwin, its palm-lined square clotted with spaced-out dirtbaggers, its scorched-earth suburbs deadly with lank philistines. Coyote trots aboard, Sparrow flutters in, Monkey swings up on his invisible sky-rope. They disembark in Bali to the clamor, jostle and reek of Indonesia, the spice scents and babble of countless dapper guides. Blond-maned Monkey, all shoulders and calves, hails a bemo, the long-bed pickup truck with roof and benches down the side that is the local cheap transport. He orders the driver to speed them to Kuta, where the shirtsleeve cosmopolites are kicking- back cheap this year. Skinny grey Coyote eyes English Sparrow, a slim pink morsel with fine high breasts, sombre in greys and browns. Monkey and Sparrow have been hitchhiking around Australia together. Coyote recalls his fondness for nibbling small birds. Green-gold Bali is splendid after greyClinton St. Quarterly 9

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