As a girl she was nearly mystified

by Hemingways nada parlay of The Lords Prayer in A Clean Well-Lighted Place

by her early Church indoctrination  Its inclinations

she detested it

but she found it in her mouth

on the tip of her tongue  

by rote

so similar to prayer  "Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada . . ” 

and then she rose from her knees to participate in Holy Communion

                                                                                                      she quickly took to softly mumbling or praying it into her lace-gloved hands

   

the whole time thinking  humored   perhaps she was getting something over on God

 

and then the longer she prayed Hemingways gospel in Church

she began to think He didnt have an ear for everyone

or not everyone at the same time

then

He wasnt listening as she was instructed He did

then

He wasnt

the old man down the street who sat quietly on his front porch  reading books and drinking 

from a bottle he refused to hide from anyone piqued her

pouring brown liquor amply into a squat round glass on the small table situated beside his knee he noticed her walking with books on the crook of her arm

--   Whatcha reading girlie

she stood at the public sidewalk along the parkway

she didnt venture any closer

and shuffling the books she read loudly to him their titles until the first book was returned 

to its place on top

--   You read em in dat order  Favorite one on top

had she

she shuffled them again and recognized she had

--   Yes

 

--   Tought asmuch  Did the same as a boy  Loves da library  I read a couple ya mentioned

But moved along

she watched him take another sip

he ran his tongue over his lips

Ya tirin how simple dey is

--   I can read them easily 

Is that what you mean

--   Yawp

he watched her sharply

she didnt response

Dats Whitman

“I celebrate myself

And what I assume you shall assume

For every atom belonging to me

as good belongs to you”

he took another sip from his glass

Ya knows im

--   Whitman

--   Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass

A colossus

--   I do not

--   Shame                                                                                                                                Hemingway

--   I do not

--   Shame

Ya shoud move along girlie

Fraid we aint got much to say to each other

he took up his glass between his worked knobby fingers and ministered it with the 

halfful bottle in his other hand

she could hear the slight gurgle of bottle as she walked away

he improbably awakened her to Hemingway

the library refused to let her any of his book  the librarian slipping them out of her stack 

and when she questioned why she couldnt have them

the librarian fixed her with a cynical gaze

briefly adjusted her severe glasses over her startling eyes 

and told her

--   These books are let only to adults or your parents if you dared to mention it to them

Child you are too young to read Hemingway

piqued  the librarian told her that Hemingway was inappropriate for her to read

You are after all a young lady

                                                                                  

--   Im not a lady  she replied indignantly  Im a girl

--   Worse  For then you are a girl without taste and desperately lacking etiquette

she refused to take any books from the library

a bookseller was around the corner from the library

she did not care for the bookseller 

she did not care for his looks

his manner

the way he sized her up when she entered the shop

he made an uncomfortable laugh when he asked if he could help her with anything

--   Any old thing you need

Id be very happy to help you

she declined politely

and walked past him as he leered at her from behind the cash register on the slightly 

raised cove

she walked into the disheveled room beyond where books were stacked pellmell on the 

unswept floor

and slipped sloppily or turned backwards between the uprights of the oddleaning 

pinewood shelves

after pulling among the stacks fruitlessly

she conceded to herself she needed his help

and lucklessly returned to the storefront to ask the bookseller if he had any books by Hemingway

--   Ah so the little girl likes Hemingway  Like his short stories does she  Up in Michigan 

Whats your Hemingway little girl

--   Please  Any one would suit me

--   Depends on how much money you got

--   Not much

--   I thought so  You got a nickel for a magazine

--   I have a nickel

--   Sold

he slipped from his ladderback chair and wandered off between the rickety shelves

back into the stores bowels where she didnt care to go

 

she heard him rustling about  picking up stacks with a grunt  grappling with them 

setting them down hard  cursing Goddammit Where the hell

then more grunting and slamming stacks down 

Ah

then she heard him returning

he emerged into the yellow light dustier than when he left

a magazine was rolled up in his hand

--   The nickel kid

she turned sideways to furtively open her small purse

Like Im gonna rob ya

she fingered her coinpurse  found the nickel  snapped it shut and turned back to him 
holding it out between her fingers

he grabbed the nickel from her

Theres a Hemingway in it  I got books but youll need more coins for em

Now beat it

she fled the booksellers holding the rolledup magazine in both her hands

the old man wasnt on his porch

neither were his books glass or bottle

she called out loud

--   Im home

as she came through the backdoor and went quickly up to her room which she shared 
with her little sister

she unfurled it

Scribners Magazine March 1933

she put the edge of it to her nose

she could smell the bookshop  the hands the magazine had been through  the cigarettes 
and cigars smoked  slopped liquor  black coffee  green potted plants and moss and 
plastic kitchen tablecloths

she could smell the oil of the delivery truck  the man at dawn heaving a corded stack of 
magazines to be sold on the street at a tarpapered newspaper stand

she smelled the printing ink

inside she found Hemingways A Clean Well-Lighted Place

it changed her

her parents believed she changed for the worse

her sister liked that their attention seemed riveted on her sister  because it took their gaze and intentions off of her

though she really liked what her sister was saying 

and she soothed her after she endured their punishments for being willful

she whispered

--   Sweetheart when I get older Im going to be just like you

she finally talked with the old man on the porch

made her way up his front sidewalk and sat on his stoop

his books and glass and bottle stayed

if he knew she was coming he combed his hair

and had a chilled sodapop for her

in high school she reached her tipping point 

and for her efforts she was suspended

it seemed everyone  the teachers  the student body  were apathetic to the War

even the boys who were going to be drafted

--   Fine  Shrug  she said  while your bodies still work

 

she rewrote The Pledge of Allegiance

printed leaflets

and walked the school hallways handing them out

everyone who took one from her she told that it was pamphlets like these that helped
form the Nation

they formed it

a pamphlet a statement at a time

School officials took away her clutch and confiscated the others they found students holding

they burned them in an incinerator in the basement

                                                                                             smoke belched briefly

from the huge squared chimney

a sortie of blackash spun in the air

some feathered down to the ground spotting the freshfallen snow or shivered and moved in the Winters gasp and inside tight little whirlwinds of defiance

I pledge Allegiance

to the Flag of the

United States of America

and to the Repulsion

for which it stands

a Nation under Gag

Divided

Entitled and Unjust

for nearly All

1622,  Thursday,  7  8. 14

2258,  Thursday,  7  8. 14

"Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada"