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DEMONS IN THE DINER / David Ray Bowtie, mustache, a slant smUe— aU such men are my father, including or especiaUy Adolph Hitler with his fedora laid on the counter. A waitress in an apron setting a spoon next to the hat, her dark eyes confessing torture, flirting with even her own son or some monster— aU such women become my mother and the diner my dream museum. 154 · The Missouri Review HOMAGE TO EUGENE WITLA / David Ray We read of these fools in novels. How could anyone be so stupid? We are blushing in embarrassment for them, feeling their shame. A man would have to be insane or worse—to wreck and wreak so much for so Uttle. Surely he is bUnd, infatuate, unworthy of his title, The "Genius"—no wonder the author has put his title in quotes. We wonder, of course, if it's Dreiser's own Ufe he reteUs with such hatred and mordancy and how anyone could be so deluded as his hero Eugene. We see where it aU leads and we wonder why he wiU not turn back. I myself wonder, who committed each of his foUies— I who left a Greek island at dawn seeking a new Ufe with my new love— looking back on the ruins, on corpse fires just beginning to rage, Uck to high heaven. The Missouri Review · 255 ...


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pp. 154-155
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