Sam, who did not know Spanish, sat cross-legged on the wrecked cama nodding. To Merilee he said. "Will you be my esposo?"

"Who are you?"

"I am the clapper and you are the bell."

"OK," she said, "I'll do it."

And then dread. Of two things. Merilee clambered over Sam and searched for the beach below. No Girl, no Alfred. "Hey keeds!" she bellowed, waking the canary to ruffle and gurgle once in its throat. "Sorry. Birdie," she whispered. "Chow down, keeds!" But no Girl and no Alfred appeared.

Almost all of us do come back, Merilee. Wait.

The second dread. "Hey Sam, I spent I-don't-know-forty-maybe-fifty-goodies on cosas."

"Hey good. But did you have a good time?"

"Yes."

"That's important. And did you spend good?"

Yes. Three hours and $72.47 spent at the Alpha Beta. 2 cases of dog food, a 75 pound sack of Keeble she had struggled out to Sam's TR herself. Inorganic vegetables, spices, a 5 pound bag of peanuts. More, much more. She knew the checkout boy-a novice at the Tribal hunting grounds, or from a novena at Alyosha's-and he had asked her, "Hey lovely one, you sure when you come down you're going to want all this stuff?"

The good thing about Sam, (and a reason to become his wife forever and ever?) was that he denied her nothing. Every penny he earned out there in the circus was Merilee's if she wanted it. And also she liked his square ways. The tab collars and the cufflinks.

Merilee got up and skinned out of her clothes and put on her silver dangles and her musky Java perfume and her man made love to her in his old-fashioned crashing way, kneading her like putty, softening the art gum of her self and spreading her out in a thin layer to the far corners of the world. Coming,