print previewback RODNEY JONES
Roommates, 1969
Brown the ed-psych man staring at a plaster wall of paisley doves
as he applies the theories of Skinner to a model fifth-grade class
and blows a plexi-sauna of homegrown marijuana;
Mann in a brown study, legging up for the space race
by gnawing tooth-marks down his slide rule,
as he mumbles over the text of Quantitative Analysis.
Well, it is not going well—in sum, it feels like hell—
and friend-gossip is the valve when things do not go well.
Mann complains to Portis: once
when they tripped, Brown lay all night observing the ceiling, cooing “Frog syndicate” and “Magellanic clouds.”
Brown tells Mills of these selfsame hours:
Mann pacing with incarnadine face then vanishing
until they went and found him shaking his fist at a light,
shouting, “Change, you motherfucker, change!”
Not ideal companions to say the least. No,
Portis tells Mills: Mann is a date thief:
that business in the closet: Mann with Brown’s sweetie:
her pale thong whitecapping among his penny loafers.
Mills cites other occasions:
Mann with his own honey; Brown across the room
demonstrating blood-pressure adjustment from his bed: “Imagine,
let’s say, you’re holding a live grenade, now suck
your asshole through the top of your head”;
Mann after the Warhol lecture, resplendent in blond wig,
slit skirt and pearls, lip-synching “Fever.” The same
night Brown saw it was Millicent, it had always been Millicent,
the Methodist minister’s daughter, who he truly loved.
A call, an afternoon, weekend visits from Cold Springs.
Mann’s second cousin: this settles things.
Except one night before a party, a joint—
she’s never tried it.
It pleases them she wants to take a hit:
itsy tokes, then bigger
until, comatose on the sofa, at peace,
she sits up like a spring.
“I’m blind,” she says,
“I can’t see a friggin’ thing.”
This instant then
as Brown bolts for the healing kitty—
Mann whispers, “George,
“we shall have to kill her.” 
Making Ready
Roommates, 1969
Staying in Cold Springs
The Portal of the Years
Fable