WANTING THE BUDDHA

4 5 R W A N T I N G T H E B U D D H A S T E P H E N C R A M E R Tired of the whale so old his eyes are cataracts, tired of the string-thin legs of her purple-spotted cat & the floppy bear, its legs devoid of beads, Isa turns to the bronze statue in the corner before she goes to sleep. I want the Buddha, she says. Silence, for a moment as we three look at each other. Then Jo responds: Buddha doesn’t want to be wanted. I smile. Good answer. But then the ripples of implications start & don’t stop. Isn’t not wanting a form of wanting? I want but don’t want. I think but don’t say: 4 6 Y Buddha doesn’t. I’m right, of course, but have never been more wrong. ...