David Ohle - Motorman

He climbed stairs to deck level.

The wind increased.

He buttoned his trenchcoat and jumped.

110

Dear Roberta,

I am calm now, though doubtful about the outcome. I jumped from the boat and rode an old refrigerator up to the bank. I've built a little fire here. I was lucky to find a rotted camphor full of root grubs, bitter as they were. I was hungry enough to forget their minor flaws. The gases are cold tonight, Roberta, and my fingers are stiff. I can see my own reflection in the flames, if I look. Myself. Moldenke of T-City, air starved, yellow, and burning cold.

The Jelly is apparently rising behind me. I could sit here and wait for it to cover me or move on. I don't know. Now that I have a few feelings to consider, and attitudes, decisions are more difficult. I suppose I'll step wherever I see a dry spot. Whenever The Jelly nips at my heels, I'll take a forward step. I'll get along.

I am uncertain where you are, or if, or whether this note will ever find you. If you are on the boat, please enjoy your trip and say hello to the folks. If you've left the boat, if you were on it, and I hope you have, we'll probably bump knees in the dark very shortly.

As far as my whereabouts are concerned, I have none. I see dead ethers around here, and weak snipes hanging in the branches. For all the world, it looks like the bottoms again. The boat doesn't seem to have traveled any distance. At best I can say that I am here, although I don't know where. I am at large and about.

What else to say, Cock? Carry on. I'll be seeing you again. At the moment my hearts are beating well, period.

As always,

I remain,

Moldenke