Edith and I were crossing Queens Boulevard a little behind Eva, so we got a good look at the back of her head, with its thinning purplish-brown hair. I said, “It’s time for Eva to stop dyeing her hair. It

The tiny restaurant Sora Margherita issues orders secretly to the piazza. She is to the piazza what Sam’s dog was to David Berkowitz. ­­­Now, she pretends indifference to the hail, as if she had nothing to do with it. She

SEA-LIONS, WITH APOLOGIES TO THE ANIMALS, WHO ALSO NEED TO FIND THEMSELVES A NAME THAT REALLY SPEAKS TO THEM The waves told me what to call them. This in a moment of confidence, nobody around, and they were rushing up and whispering in those urgent