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15 SMALL TALK We’re฀strangers฀chatting about฀stormy฀weather as฀the฀elevator฀whisks฀us฀to฀the฀top of฀the฀U.S.฀Bank฀Building, but฀not฀higher,฀no฀never higher though฀we฀aspire to฀rise฀above฀ourselves฀in฀flocks like฀lost฀Canada฀geese. Their฀goose฀hearts฀beat฀together. They฀are฀not฀afraid฀to฀cry฀in฀public: We฀are฀too฀many! We฀are฀weeds! And฀yet฀though฀lost฀we฀fly฀fearlessly over฀Milwaukee. O฀strangers฀in฀the฀lift, don’t฀hold฀my฀gaze.฀It฀is฀enough to฀know฀you฀are฀too฀close for฀comfort.฀Fellow฀citizens of฀America’s฀fattest฀state, it฀is฀not฀weight฀that฀keeps฀us down,฀but฀heart฀trouble: blockages,฀skips,฀little฀ifs. The฀weather฀is฀not฀small.฀It฀is฀larger than฀we฀are,฀larger฀than฀North America฀(avec฀Canada), perhaps฀co-terminal฀with฀God฀and฀Allah, so฀let฀us฀small-talk in฀the฀hushed฀tones฀of฀nuns฀and฀lovers, as฀we฀unzip฀our฀coats and฀shake฀off฀the฀drops. We฀can’t฀feel฀fully฀human when฀we’re฀wet.฀Such฀is฀the฀rain’s฀gift. Such฀is฀the฀rain’s฀largesse. ...

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