头条屋小说网

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第4部分（第3页）

Dan　peered　nervously　into　the　foyer　of　Greg？s　sprawling　Harlem　apartment；　where　they　were

holding　their　very　first　meeting　of　the　Song　of　Myself　literary　salon。

？I？m　here。？　Dan　stepped　inside；　hesitating　in　the　dark　foyer；　pretending　to　study　a　massive　oil

painting　as　he　anxiously　practiced　his　opening　ments　in　his　head。Wele　everyone；　to　our

first　meeting。　I？d　like　to　begin　by　quoting　the　poet　Wallace　Stevens；　who　of　course　had　much　to

say　on　the　subject　of　the　centrality　of　literature　to　the　human　condition。　。　。　。　？Let　be　be　finale　of

seem。The　only　emperor　is　the　emperor　of　ice　cream。？

？Everything　okay？？

The　weight　of　Greg？s　hand　on　his　shoulder　startled　Dan。　？Hey；　sorry。？

Greg　laughed。　？Nervous？？

？No；　no；？　Dan　lied。　？Just　looking　at　this　painting。？　He　gestured　at　the　huge　canvas　hanging　over

the　mantel　in　Greg？s　parents？　apartment。　They　were　older　than　Rufus　and　spend　most　of　their　time

in　Phoenix。　A　swirl　of　glossy　grays　and　flesh　tones　glinted　in　the　afternoon　sunlight　streaming

through　dusty　living　room　windows。

？You　like　it？？　Greg　wondered。　？It？s　one　of　mine。？

？Really？？　Dan　turned　to　study　the　painting；　actually　looking　at　it　this　time。　When　he　took　a　step

back　into　the　foyer；　and　then　another；　he　realized　that　he　had　been　staring　at　a　life…size　self…portrait

of　Greg；　sitting　on　top　of　a　tiny　stepladder；　pletely　naked。　？Oh；　right。？　He　tittered

nervously。　？Of　course。Yeah。　It？s　you。？

？In　all　my　glory。？　Greg　noticed　the　rectangular…shaped　bottle　that　Dan　was　gripping　as　though　his

life　depended　on　it。　？You　brought　something！？

？Yeah；　some　absinthe。？　It　was　the　most　literary　thing　he　could　find。The　kind　of　thing　Rimbaud　or

Shelley　might　have　drunk。　Plus；　it　was　the　only　unopened　bottle　in　the　musty　cracked…glass

dentist？s　cabinet　his　dad　stored　liquor　in。

？Awesome！？　Greg　took　the　bottle。　？Should　I　fix　us　a　drink　before　everyone　gets　here？？

？Sure。？　Dan　followed　his　host　down　the　bookshelf…lined　hallway　toward　the　living　room。　？I

could　use　a　little　some…thing　to　loosen　me　up。？

Just　a　little　though；　right？　That　stuff　is　so　strong　it？s　like　。　。　。　illegal。

？There？s　shlomeone；　I　mean；　someone；　there？s　。　。　。？　Dan　slurred。　His　tongue　felt　like　it　was　the

size　of　an　eggplant。　？Doorbell；　dude。　They？re　here。　It？s　time！？　he　added；　attempting　to　sit　up。

？It？s　time！？　Greg　leapt　up　off　the　low　brown　leather　couch　that　he　and　Dan　had　been　sinking

further　and　further　into　the　more　shots　of　absinthe　they　drank。　They？d　allotted　an　hour　for

planning　their　opening　remarks；　but　they？d　spent　most　of　the　time　pouring　absinthe　over　lumps　of

sugar；　then　swallowing　the　sticky；　sweet　mix　in　one　gulp。　Dan　picked　up　the　sterling　absinthe

spoon　they？d　been　sharing　and　popped　it　into　his　mouth。

Taste　of　metal　on　my　tongue。　Poison　the　color　of　envy？I？m　delirious；　you？re　delicious；　I？m

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