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48 6. Dispensations for an Afternoon Rain Sometimes all that remains proves the doorknob. Or, up for anything— two distant figures preparing to dissolve into steam-bath mist. Or the deviations of Lady Chardonnay ensconced in a dark mahogany corner at Chez Steak, awaiting the next echelon. Divine distractions prevail as you peek out between curtains, study the skyline, with little appetite for what’s shade-grown. How to make up for being late and given to interpretation? The TV mutters continually. The mail is overdue again. ...

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