Вино из одуванчиков

           Herimplacablelefthandmoveddowntostrokeandfritterenigmatictarot-cardskulls,devils,hangingmen,hermits,cardinalsandclowns,whileherheadhungclosetodelveyourmiseryormurder,hopeorhealth,yourrebirthseachmorninganddeath’srenewalsbynight.Thenshespideredacalligrapher’spenacrossthebackofasinglecardandletittitterdownthechuteintoyourhands.Whereuponthewitch,withalastveiledglimmerofhereyes,frozebackinhereternalcaulforweeks,months,years,awaitingthenextcopperpennytoreviveherfromoblivion.Now,waxendead,shesufferedthetwoboys’approach.

           Douglasfingerprintedtheglass.

           "Theresheis."

           "It’sawaxdummy,"saidTom."Whydoyouwantmetoseeher?"

           "Allthetimeaskingwhy!"yelledDouglas."Because,that’swhy,because!"

           Because...thearcadelightsdimmed...because...

           Onedayyoudiscoveryouarealive.

           Explosion!Concussion!Illumination!Delight!

           Youlaugh,youdancearound,youshout.

           But,notlongafter,thesungoesout.Snowfalls,butnooneseesit,onanAugustnoon.

           AtthecowboymatineelastSaturdayamanhaddroppeddowndeadonthewhite-hotscreen.Douglashadcriedout.Foryearshehadseenbillionsofcowboysshot,hung,burned,destroyed.Butnow,thisoneparticularman...

           He’llneverwalk,run,sit,laugh,cry,won’tdoanythingever,thoughtDouglas.Nowhe’sturningcold.Douglas’steethchattered,hisheartpumpedsludgeinhischest.Heshuthiseyesandlettheconvulsionshakehim.