PERSPECTIVES

Page Five



saw Muscle's match flare in the back of
the car.
"We're going and goddam quick," I
shouted back to him.
Muscle straightened and ran back to
us. "Hey wait," he yelled and he held-my
arm again and his big hand was like a
shackle. He could have broken my wrist
just like that.
"All right, but gimme a match. I got
to have a cigarette if you're going to
make a nervous wreck of me."
"I ain't got any matches. They're all
gone. I just used the last one. Now, lis-
ten. Please. Listen, my old man, when I
asked him, and he was right beside me
and it was like he wasn't there. They
came out of the woods and she wasn't
listening to him I felt the same way.
Scared . . . get rhe . . . like I was the
only guy . . and I did the disappearing
act inside me . . ." He stopped and
stamped again. "Don't you get me?"
I looked at the rushing ground out-
side,
He pulled my arm and held onto the
kid. "Whyn't you jump, huh? Whyn't
you jump?" he yelled. I thought he was
going to throw us both off the train and
I struggled, but he hung onto us and
his face was twisted up as if he was
trying to make words come to his lips.

"Look! That dead guy back there. He
ain't got connection with nobody, has
he? That's what I mean. No threads.
There ain't none really even if we all
thinks: Nothing." Simple, quiet words
followed: "He's alone." Muscle's eyes
when I looked at him seemed to use me
as a screen on which they saw the fi-
gures of his thought. "Like the queer,
like my old man, like you and the kid
and you can't get around it. He's sort
of .finished. Complete, you get me?
Free."
Muscle had us both scared and shaky,
all of us hanging on to the bouncing
boxcar, our clothes tight against us from
the rushing wind. We were straining at
the doorway while he talked.
Suddenly he shouted harshly, "Jump,
goddam you! Get! You guys got to get
out of here. Fast."
He waved behind him and there was
the end of the car blazing. Everything
was dancing in the flames. The straw
was very dry because the fire hit the
ceiling just as I looked. I started back
to stamp it out, but Muscle gripped me
tighter.
"There's your matches. Now jump,
you gotta!"
The kid was standing like a diver,
trying to see out.

"You crazy fool," I screamed at Mus-
cle.
"Never mind me. I'm right after you."
The flames licked upwards and the
dry wooden walls were burning. I step-
ped on the door sill and saw the ground
blur past me. Then the kid jumped.
I went right after. I hit running and
started rolling. My clothes tore in sheets
and then my skin was seared. I lay still
for a few moments to get my breath: I
hadn't broken anything, but then I
wasn't sure I was alive. The kid came up
to me, whimpering in the darkness.
"You hurt?" I asked.
"All over," he sobbed.
"Aw, you can walk."
"Where's the big guy?"
"The hell with him. He's up ahead
probably."
"I didn't see him jump."
"How could you? It's dark."
"Hey!" the kid shouted. I shouted
too, but there was no answer. It was
pretty flat around there but we could-
n't see anyone standing and there were
no groans. We started beating around,
but there wasn't anyone.
"I tell you he didnt jump," the kid
said.
"Well, let's look anyway," I said, but
instead we stood and watched the train

go up the track. You couldn't see the
fire because it hadn't gotten out of the
car yet. All there was were the red
lights on the caboose. The train started
around a curve behind some trees. A
clean finger of flame split the sky, then
stretched back over the cars. That was
all we saw before it went around the
curve and after that there was only a
red smear moving across the sky above
the trees. The fire had been discovered
because we heard the screech of brakes.
"Come.on, kid," I said. "We gotta get
outa this before we get caught. We're
not going to find the big guy."
He suddenly took my hand like a little
kid and we crossed the tracks into a
field and we ran together along the
fence, stumbling along the railroad,
stumbling and running, and the blub-
bering kid holding my hand tighter un-
til his nails cut me. All there was was
the moon on the fields and we could
smell the sharp woodsmoke and the
bitter-sweet of plowed ground, but I
couldn't see and he couldn't and we
didn't know where we were going. But
that didn't make any difference.. We
ran.

ihy J 7ate c en ... by (arian T hillips

Sketches by CARL GULDBERG
Someone told me the other day that I
must hate men terribly, and all at once
it occured 'to me that I do. Anu these
are only a fev of the reasons why:
I hate men because-
They all object to nail polish but they
don't know why.
They always, always ask you where you
want to go when you set out on a date,
but you always go where they want to.

salary and think she should be put back
into the kitchen.
But if she is in the kitchen. they brag
that they can cook better than the
women.
When they say they want to get mar-
ried, they never say that they have
found a marvelous girl they want to
have for the rest of their lives, but they
always say they want to marry and have
a family.
But if they do have a family they
don't pay any attention to it until it is
suddenly old enough to ask for the car.
And if they have a big family, they
wonder why their wives look so worn
and old, and start going out with a
stenograpper.
They call their wives 'The Mother of
My Children."
Never in God's world have they been
known to use an ash tray if there's a rug
handy.
Every fall they go out and kill a lot of
animals and birds that they don't even
bother to pick up and bring home, or
if they do bring them home, they throw
away everything but the head which
they put over the fireplace.
If they take anything to eat out of
the refrigerator, they put the dirty
dishes back in.

They always think their instructors
or business associates are persecuting
them.
They think love can be put on like
hair-oil; to slick up for an occasion..
They are all too thin before they're
30. then all at once they become too fat.
They take your best friend out on a
blind date and try to neck hell out of
her.

there are lots of people whom neither
of you know, but they see no objection
when you are with a group of friends.
There is something about the sigh
of a woman doing housework that fills
them with fiendish glee.
They ccnsider a run in a woman's hos,
a personal affront.
They tell you wonderful things aL
midnight which they have forgotten by
noon.
They think a taxicab is a brothel on
wheels.
After making love to you all evening,
they suddenly get up and stretch and
say that they are hungry.
They stare at every blonde that passes,
but are furious if you glance at another
man.
They all think they can play the piano
or could have learned.
They always want to kiss you good-
night unless you want to kiss them.
good-night.
They snub the women that they used
to go with.
No one has ever told them that there
are certain preliminaries to love-mak-
ing.
They think a technique that work'
with one woman will work with all wom-
en; if it doesn't, they try another.
Wher. they get feeling gay and devil-
ish. they all troop downtown to see a
burlesque show.

They talk all the time about how
wonderful they are and never give you a
chance to tell them how wonderful you
are.
They think the dullest, most stupid
man deserves a girl like Hedy LaMarr.
They laugh at the idea of girls'being
friends, and if they are, they'll flirt with
both of them to see what will happen.
If you won't neck with them they
want to know if you're homosexual.
They think it's one step from the ball-
room into the bedroom and one step
back again.
They think you aren't a lady if you
can't hold your liquor, and if you can,
they still think you aren't.
They eat things in hotels that they
glare at when you serve them at home.
They keep you waiting for hours in
hotel lobbies, and when they finally
come, they say they waited for 10 min-
utes then went out for a shoe-shine.
No matter how much you smoke they
all tell you that you smoke too much.
They get you drunk before they try
to neck with you and then they get
terribly angry with you if you aren't
drunk enough.
They want to behave like children
with the privileges of an adult.
They think that every woman wants
to get married.
If a woman is better at their job than
they are, they pay her half a man's

They take you out on Friday and tell
you that you are the only girl in the
world, and on Saturday, they're out
with one of the other girls.
They laugh at women's interest in
clothes, but they will tell you in minute
detail how thy happened to buy their
new topcoat.
They whistle at you on the street,
but if you smile back they will look
coldly away.
They hate salads because someone told
them they should.
They say they hate sentiment but they
dissolve into marshmallow whip at the
mention of the word "Mother."
They utter every word as though God
himself had put it into their mouths.
To them the floral world consists of
roses and gardenias. They'd send sweet
peas to Mae West and orchids to Shirley
Temple.
They think unattractive girls are so
on purpose.
There is no way in the world that
you can stop them from telling a dirty
story if they happen to have one on
hand.
They think illegitimate babies happen
only to other men.
They only tell you that you look nice
when there's a lull in the conversation.
If they're shorter than you are, they
want to dance, if they're bigger they
want to "smooch."
They won't kiss you in places where

They use your hairbrush to clean their
pants and clean their shoes on the
bathtowels which they throw into dingy
heaps in the corners.
They never clean out the bathtub
after they use it.
They object to hearing a woman
swear but not to swearing at her.
They write poems like "We Are Sev-
en" and "Trees."
If you can't go out with them because
you have another date they believe you
but want to know what's the matter
with you.

They think that it is impossible that
they should get drunk.
And when they are drunk, they say
that they are merely in rather good form.
They all get amorous after the fourth
drink.
They've made up a scientific tern
for a woman-hater, but they've nevr
made up one for a man-hater because
they think they don't exist.
Well boys ... take a look at mel