XXVII
                                                                                              I.
                              he should talk, he’s rolling in dough, and feels
                              compromised—and abandoned—he should change
                              places with the one in the dirty red T-shirt,
                              the one who asked him for four dollars to buy
                              a Metro card, then he could live with the fleas
                              and smell the river forever—maybe it’s hardness,
                              hardness is the word—that’s better, he thinks
                              than just “indifference” but he still likes “entitled,”
                              as W. is entitled, he sneers when he talks,
                              and he can’t bear opposition or disagreement
                              and scolds with a quivering voice; as there are skunks
                              in chairs who dip their tails in ink or their assholes
                              and spread their stink—though no one can make you cry
                              again for you are dry and what is the use of
                              going through that again; but I. can’t help
                              interfering for that is what he does, he
                              intervenes, he is insulting, he lost
                              jobs, he was shunned, he embarrassed his
                              wives, he was emotional, wasn’t G.
                              himself emotional? Didn’t M. make him cry?