In this gym sauna its air dry
hot cedar almost . .
. . it almost reminded him of a sweathouse he
enjoyed . no he didnt enjoy it . . he
experienced it . . . a sweat lodge an Indian friend built on his property at
the edge of the Minnesota River
hed hacked a short black
rectangular pool out of the rivers ice prominent
against its bluemarbled ice and the unspoiled white heaped gather of snow
they stoked a big open fire that
night and into it dropped round river rocks
then with old iron tongs they fished
them out of the red flames and brought them inside a low skinclad oval trussed up on willow branches he bound and twined
inside it was hot
hot was an understatement
he had a dispassionate inkling he
might be the main course for their evening meal
Stupid White Man roast
he
didnt know this Indian that well but
they had gotten along on the construction site
inside the flap that hung over
the opening to enter and exit the lodge stood a galvanized bucket filled with riverwater
Joe the Indian (unfortunate he
thought Mark Twain) ladled water onto
the rocks and gorgeous
white steam billowed off them curling filling
the lodge
taking his breath away
it only got hotter
he never had a vision saw it
he wasnt an Indian
when Joe eventually (none too
soon) grunted at him ending his slow scalding they bolted out of the lodge and down
a slight snowy decline to the rivers edge
Joe motioned they were going to
drop into the water at the hacked edge upriver
he followed him into the black river
like a lemming
they emerged crawled out onto the downriver edge naked and
stiffly went up the rise back to the sweat lodge
while the hot warmed him he wondered
why his heart hadnt given out for the extreme physical swings from hot to frigid
to hot again and that wondering
entertained him for the rest of the evening
lubricated with firewater and Joes
laughing
and then even later as he drove home through falling snowing illuminated
by his headlight bolts
he sat on a slatted cedar bench
in the dark
hed chased the last fatty out
stoking the heat with a little trick he learned from a veteran hardass who he
also chased out of the heat years ago
only
because he tolerated it better than most
YES
he
ought to feel bad about thinking of the fat man as a fatty but he was
just because you have a membership to a health club doesnt obfuscate the
fact that someones fat
he
was fat he was enormous the fat man knew it and he knew it So roll the hell out of here fatty and take
your slick snail trail with you as you go please
a puddle of it remained sitting beside
him in the dark
he
could hear it quiver
with fatty escaped he could
finally relax and let the heat inside him
Robert Palmers Power Station Some Like It Hot played lightly in his musing ears
he opened his eyes
and
took in the panel of plexiglass framed in the heatwarped door
it was light blue outside
then
he closed his eyes again
where the door had been in his
vision
in his
closed eyes he saw a pitchblack ban stretched vertically as far up he could see
in his head and as far down
it was firm
but then it began to slacken
it
hung there wafting in the radiating heat
and then it began to turn on itself and coil
spiral
counterclockwise
everything turned
in his closed eyes counterclockwise
he marveled when it didnt
with its spiral loosening its blackness began ebbing he immediately missed its stark black band
hanging vertically in his eyes it
reminded him of the black blinders applied over the eyes of the blackandwhite
girlie snaps of his youth
obviously horizontal
whorizontal some believed they were pornography
strapped over her eyes her leaning forward deeply
her breasts thrusted trapped in between her bent arms swollen
nipples hard neat
trick!
some believed this was
pornography or art
strapped over her eyes and over
his eyes as he takes her from
behind the picture blurred by motion theyre both slovenly
some believed this was
pornography or art
and then the coloring was
altered he was older changing to a sepia-tint more exciting a girl on her knees seen looking down the blinder slipped over her eyes a cock disappearing into her mouth
some believed this was
pornography or art
then sepia blossomed into Colour brilliant
and unashamed
the blinders gone snatched off their faces
and then there was a skillful return
a stylised blackandwhite a male model (or not) mouth open
an artful arch a stream of urine between
his mouth and a man standing before him
some believed this was
pornography or art
it seemed to him in this near-scalding darkness the difference may have been in what
the blinders hid
the blinders hid
what he couldnt see behind them
what
was not revealed
the Mapplethorpe the model was aware his sensibilities invoked it was in his eyes Art
perhaps if the women in those
early snaps if their eyes revealed
something untoward
then pornography
but if willful adamant and ardent art
its loose spiral its blackness
began ebbing
he missed the stark black band standing on its end
and its turn became quicker
its colouring more
diffuse
a gray a greying
spinning
and spots like spores or mould
erupted and wound on each other like a network
at a Sudden
Xploding
like
the surface of a black sun licked by solar flares
Hanging There
shriveling
to ash
collapsing
dissipating
Evaporated
Joe the Indian might have been
impressed
but his brother rolled him that
winter in Minnesota fractured his skull
with an empty whisky bottle
robbed
him as he died outside the bar in the snow where they drank
1924, Monday,
22 12. 14
