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I
sleep
much
less
in
time
than
Mary
does
.
She
says
she
needs
a
great
deal
of
sleep
and
I
agree
that
I
need
less
but
I
am
far
from
believing
that
.
There
is
only
so
much
energy
stored
in
a
body
,
augmented
,
of
course
,
by
foods
.
One
can
use
it
up
quickly
,
the
way
some
children
gobble
candy
,
or
unwrap
it
slowly
.
There
’
s
always
a
little
girl
who
saves
part
of
her
candy
and
so
has
it
when
the
gobblers
have
long
since
finished
.
I
think
my
Mary
will
live
much
longer
than
I
.
She
will
have
saved
some
of
her
life
for
later
.
Come
to
think
of
it
,
most
women
live
longer
than
men
.
Good
Friday
has
always
troubled
me
.
Even
as
a
child
I
was
deep
taken
with
sorrow
,
not
at
the
agony
of
the
crucifixion
,
but
feeling
the
blighting
loneliness
of
the
Crucified
.
And
I
have
never
lost
the
sorrow
,
planted
by
Matthew
,
and
read
to
me
in
the
clipped
,
tight
speech
of
my
New
England
Great
-
Aunt
Deborah
.
Perhaps
it
was
worse
this
year
.
We
do
take
the
story
to
ourselves
and
identify
with
it
.
Today
Marullo
instructed
me
,
so
that
for
the
first
time
I
understood
it
,
in
the
nature
of
business
.
Right
afterward
I
was
offered
my
first
bribe
.
That
’
s
an
odd
thing
to
say
at
my
age
,
but
I
don
’
t
remember
any
other
.
I
must
think
about
Margie
Young
-
Hunt
.
Is
she
an
evil
thing
?
What
is
her
purpose
?
I
know
she
has
promised
me
something
and
threatened
me
if
I
don
’
t
accept
it
.
Can
a
man
think
out
his
life
,
or
must
he
just
tag
along
?
So
many
nights
I
have
lain
awake
,
hearing
my
Mary
’
s
little
purring
beside
me
.
If
you
stare
into
darkness
,
red
spots
start
swimming
on
your
eyes
,
and
the
time
is
long
.
Mary
so
loves
her
sleep
that
I
have
tried
to
protect
her
in
it
,
even
when
the
electric
itch
burned
on
my
skin
.
She
wakens
if
I
leave
the
bed
.
It
worries
her
.
Because
her
only
experience
with
sleeplessness
has
been
in
illness
,
she
thinks
I
am
not
well
.
This
night
I
had
to
get
up
and
out
.
Her
breath
purred
gently
and
I
could
see
the
archaic
smile
on
her
mouth
.
Maybe
she
dreamed
of
good
fortune
,
of
the
money
I
was
about
to
make
.
Mary
wants
to
be
proud
.
It
is
odd
how
a
man
believes
he
can
think
better
in
a
special
place
.
I
have
such
a
place
,
have
always
had
it
,
but
I
know
it
isn
’
t
thinking
I
do
there
,
but
feeling
and
experiencing
and
remembering
.
It
’
s
a
safety
place
—
everyone
must
have
one
,
although
I
never
heard
a
man
tell
of
it
.
Secret
,
quiet
movement
often
awakens
a
sleeper
when
a
deliberate
normal
action
does
not
.
Also
I
am
convinced
that
sleeping
minds
wander
into
the
thoughts
of
other
people
.
I
caused
myself
to
need
the
bathroom
,
and
when
it
was
so
,
got
up
and
went
.
And
afterward
I
went
quietly
downstairs
,
carrying
my
clothes
,
and
dressed
in
the
kitchen
.
Mary
says
I
share
other
people
’
s
troubles
that
don
’
t
exist
.
Maybe
that
is
so
,
but
I
did
see
a
little
possible
scene
play
out
in
the
dim
-
lighted
kitchen
—
Mary
awakening
and
searching
the
house
for
me
,
and
her
face
troubled
.
I
wrote
a
note
on
the
grocery
pad
,
saying
,
"
Darling
—
I
’
m
restless
.
Have
gone
for
a
walk
.
Be
back
soon
.
"
I
think
I
left
it
squarely
in
the
center
of
the
kitchen
table
so
that
if
the
light
was
turned
on
at
the
wall
switch
it
would
be
the
first
thing
seen
.
Then
I
eased
the
back
door
open
and
tasted
the
air
.
It
was
chilly
,
smelled
of
a
crusting
of
white
frost
.
I
muffled
up
in
a
heavy
coat
and
pulled
a
knitted
sailor
’
s
cap
down
over
my
ears
.
The
electric
kitchen
clock
growled
.
It
said
quarter
of
three
.
I
had
been
lying
watching
the
red
spots
in
the
dark
since
eleven
.
