That’s what it’s like to lose a woman. And at a certain time, losing one woman means losing all women. That’s how we become Men Without Women. We lose Percy Faith, Francis Lai, and 101 Strings. And ammonites and coelacanths. And we lose her beautiful back. I used to rub M’s back with my palm, in time to the soft triple beat of Henry Mancini’s version of “Moon River.” Waiting round the bend, my Huckleberry friend … But all of that has vanished. All that remains is an old broken piece of eraser, and the far-off sound of the sailors’ dirge. And the unicorn beside the fountain, his lonely horn
...more
