Gone & Gone

The Answer Man at the Arena

46 The Answer Man at the Arena Into this circle of single pursuits comes the dancing head of the matador man. Had been seated above, then realized he was wanted below. Handed his rose to Jake, spilling his drink, earnestly headed downstairs. Where the lions might have roared the bulls now bellow. There is no grace in the fumbling pirouette of the cape-clad man, but the astute sword justifies itself. He drapes his cape over the discharged horns. “Bravo Bravo” the cries erupt in a circus of response. Bursts of blood on the bull’s glazed flank; ten thousand flies buzz & settle, block the light, erase the bull. “Thank you” our man says. Having stabbed himself in the foot he limps for a gate. Ten thousand roses flung into the air. ...