Angelica stands by the sea
Anything I say is too loud for her mood
I will have to come back
a million years later
with the scalp of my old life
hanging from one hand
She went back to the beach to look for the room key which she thought she might have dropped there. I ran to tell her that the door was open. I stopped at the edge of the sand. The sun was going down. She had lied about the key to escape from the family. She stood in front of the sun. She had become pure attention. My heart was fouled with anxieties of the occasion. I fell to one knee remembering the feathered helmet and shield and how I had betrayed my calling, clinging to the glory of the investiture, my strength spent in boasting and lust while I embraced the alibi of the artist.