Between pages 186 and 187 of a lost library

copy of a collection of short stories
by Antonia Nelson, entitled "Funny Once,"
at least one of which, "First Husband"—'his
apple-flavored mouth, his kisses that could
paralyze her with brutal desire, still, still (I
loved this part especially), even in absentia,'
was originally published in The New Yorker
where I had remembered reading it, so was
able to skip ahead, and in so doing, strumming
the guitar of pages past the heartache of Lovey
and Bernadette, the 'What has she done, really?'
rationality of William despite him holding the baby
out in the cold, as in, 'Let's try some shock therapy,
shall we?' and the trembling lipped Caleb, suggesting,
'Maybe you should leave her out there?' to explore
for perhaps some lighter-hearted, acoustic, toe-tapping
tale of love and leisure, on a neatly quartered but
not scissored so that you could, if you were so inclined,
imagine the page, the reverse side of which contained
instructions to: Please Include Child's Name On Checks
being folded over once, and then once again,

tightly, a fingernail perfecting the edge

along a formica topped table before being disassembled

into its current form, in a neatly penciled hand (capitals included)



the following list:
 
         - Grapes
          - Strawberries
          - Melon
          - Southwestern rice (steam in bag)
          - Ranch
 
just adjacent to the near-closing lines of the title story —

'Life was so little like a science experiment and so much
like a cluttered drawer where you tossed things just to
get them out of sight.'