He won't ever speak of spirits.  He goes downstairs with his bald head 
shining to practice sax, the reeds all pared down to perfection.  This 
is the 28th year I have been in the same bed with Ratfinder.  That was 
his name back then, I think, when he saved a brother from the gas 
chambers. This time he's a kid from Brooklyn with an arrogant lit gaze 
anbd a runners' luck.  He used to be a runner.  This is how I fell in 
love with him.  His leg muscles were thick and strong and I thought of 
the film "The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner." 

Copyright 2001,  Judy Katz Levine