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68 In the future, the future will be the past A woman screamed during the protest between supporters of Arabs on one side and Israelis on the other that Jews should “go back to the ovens.” There’s a picture of her on the Web in a white scarf, mouth open, everything slightly blurry because she was moving or the camera was or the Earth jumped a bit at what she said. As I looked at the picture, Eve was behind me folding a shirt, sleeves first and then in half and then in half again the other way, making me glad I’m not a shirt, she coughed and I saw her in an oven. This wasn’t a thought but a vision, not a Jew in an oven but this Jew in an oven, not this Jew in an oven but these lips, eyes, this voice made ash. I got up and kissed her to make sure she was there, not telling her she’d just died in my brain, then sat before the screen and stared and stared again at the picture of the woman, refreshing my gaze at whatever rate humans do who want to know what it feels like to wear a particular head, to own a different tongue. Sure that, if I could meet her, if the crowd dispersed, if screaming were put aside, if she sat across a table from Eve and saw her stirring coffee, worrying a hair into place, and I gave this woman paper and pencil and told her, I am a god, hicok pages i-120.indd 68 1/7/10 3:23 PM 69 you can sketch anything you want to happen and it will happen, she wouldn’t sketch an oven and Eve in the oven, wouldn’t draw fire but a hill, as all children draw hills, as all adults are children in the universe in which I am a god, a hill with a view of other wavings from other hills— these are examples of the thoughts I have of people, as these are examples of questions I ask the falling snow: if I could burn a sock could I burn a foot, if a foot a finger, if a finger an ear, if an ear a womb, could I ever burn a womb, snow, in your opinion, how did we get here? hicok pages i-120.indd 69 1/7/10 3:23 PM ...

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