A Separate Logic
All he had to know was
that the railswent one way and the highway went anotherand that there was a
separate logic, somethinghe didn't have to understand; the lakesanyhow kept him
busy and straining to hearthe French in front of him. General Motors,he tried
to explain, destroyed the beds, but theywere only interested in the foliage.
One thinghe learned about the Swiss, they ate all morningand talked without a
letup, and they likedour lakes as much as theirs. Sometimes the railsfollowed
the road, or vice-versa, horsesversus horses; where he sat the sunshone behind
the trees, he caught the trunksand most of the branches; he was at peace
becausehe could hate the corporations and stilladore the leaves; he learned to
do that in Pittsburgh,studying Frick then walking through the woodsand loving
the hills and looking down, nothinggave him greater pleasure, finding a
marblehoof, for example, or a sea shell, in someremote Pennsylvania park, or in
a factorygiven over to profit to see a doorknobmade, as it were, in Crete, or
China. He crushedhis cup in the netting as they moved overwater, "he was at
sea," he said to the Swissand he explained how "money talked" just as
theyclimbed through another woods. He was hopinga small leaf would stick to the
window, somethingred, with a pear to match, a Bartlett; pearsand apples made
him sleep. There was one bridgediagonally under another, they were flyinginto
and through each other; there were two leaves,one on top of the other and it
was raining.
