are with me this weekend.” lanthe had many fires and, at times, Arnold believed this was her life jacket, that she and Porky were not unlike. And, oh yes, it was perhaps this gift of fires that caused the gods to be so angry with her. She had fires but did not have fire herself. No, what would William do eventually? Did lanthe tell William that it was all very much like “An Ode to a Grecian Urn”? Keatsian Vase was what she called it with him. This meant that she and the man, whoever the man happened to be at the time, were forced into positions of pursuit and departure at all times. “I enjoy it the most,” lanthe had insisted, “because I am the one who is pursuing. You see, I have taken this from the man.” It was, therefore, lanthe’s belief that there was no having another person, that they all remained in these positions of pursuit and retreat. It was like sheep really. They had been in the country one day for a picnic where there was a small group of sheep, lanthe, in her playful fashion, had tried to tame them, moving among the daisies and field blossoms with a bunch of grass and an apple to coax them. As she moved slowly and gently toward them, they had just as slowly and gently moved away. But, interestingly enough, when she walked away from them they started to graze close to where she and Arnold were eating their lunch. As she bit into an apple, she had thought for a moment that they might finally be wanting to be friends and had leapt up once again, only to find that they were just as inaccessible, never once moving their graceful heads from the long grass. Finally, lanthe had gotten into tears and he took her back home, where she went directly to bed, and they made love in a ferocious manner. She was always ready to make love. She was like a pool; under all the fury she was placid and cool. The same pool, time after time, so willing, so agreeable. “Yes,” she had said, “but the pool reflects the moon if you learn to understand.” But Arnold never could. There was no ultimate sense of possessing this placidity, this underlying calm which, for all of lanthe’s emotion and anger, lay there, accepting and peaceful. This was why they all shared her so well, why there was no jealousy. Arnold wondered dizzily if there would ever be a man who would lt Luas lanthe’s belief that there was no having another person, that theg all remained in these positions of pursuit and retreat. see and understand the moon. It didn’t matter because lanthe accepted it all so completely. ‘“Like flies to wanton boys, the gods kill us for their sport.’’’This was her favorite Shakespearean quote. And then the line that she said her father always used: ‘“ Fuck ’em all but six, and save them for pallbearers.'” Arnold had suggested once that she may have misinterpreted this saying. “Do you ski?” William asked Richard, waving a magazine in front of him. “Look at this turn. I have a friend who turns like that. My God, it’s beautiful. It’s poetry.” He waved the magazine in Arnold’s direction. “Yes, cross-country,” Richard replied. Arnold could not afford to ski. He was not a professional. Richard was a doctor, lanthe insisted that everyone who was to be found very high on the slopes was a doctor, pure Marxian economics, with a bit of the cream rising to the top. Sometimes Arnold felt that if there were one thing he really hated it was the physically fit, the good specimen. Richard was just such a type, the body clean and sucked in without protest. The limbs long and graceful, ready to dance into a run at a moment’s provocation. But after all it seemed needless, it was the white rat in the maze, jumping and hurrying for no apparent reason. The casual observer could see that the poor rodent was in a maze. He, Arnold, was perfecting the only, the rare, path to freedom. It was not the physical, it was the mental. It was not life exactly, it was imagination. Every morning of the time that Arnold spent with her, lanthe would wake up at five in the morning, dive into her grey jogging suit, and run out the front door to the lake. He had argued with her about imagination, but she, she insisted, was a good Greek and was trying, through the process of running, to force her mind to be at one with her body. It was her contention that the mind-body question, and all of its manifestations to be found in the populations of the Western World, was what caused pain and suffering. “What happens when you finally achieve harmony?” “You slip into obscurity,” she had said. “No one notices you anymore.” Richard and William were discussing how each of them had climbed Mt. Baker: the avalanches, the uncertain peaks. “It all makes me sick to my stomach,” Arnold couldn’t help saying. They had all climbed lanthe. “Could I help you with those books?” Richard asked. Arnold didn’t answer but instead went down to the basement, where lanthe hid the wood from the neighbors, and brought up some logs so that they could have a nice fire. When he climbed back up the dark and spidery stairs, the children were standing in the hallway. Porky had a small sailboat under his arm that he took baths with. Leslie stood a full head taller than Porky and was looking at the men and combing her hair with a very large pink plastic comb. William and Richard shook hands and Richard was off, the two children calling and dragging after him as they walked out on the lawn where last year’s toys hid in the long grass. Arnold made the fire with the very dry wood and kindling taken from an old sea chest by the hearth, lanthe’s white cat came over and, as usual, stretched out about two inches from the flame. “It’s a wonder that cat doesn’t cook.” he said to the air. Then just beB L U E G A R D E N I A vintage clothes for men and women 222 w burnside portland 226-0136 mon-sat 11:30-5:30 Rainyday Flowers CREATE YOUR OWN FANTASIES: ANTHERIUM CALLA LILLIES RED GINGER RANUNCULUS DWARF LOBSTERCLA W BIRD OFPARADISE PROTEA GARDENIAS FRESIA ORCHID SPRAYS ASIATIC LILLIES TROPICAL FOLIAGE VISIT US AT YAMHILL MARKETPLACE YAMHILL MARKETPLACE 110 S.W. 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