and here's -- here's msk fisher, young msk fisher with her first husband, al fisher who has been assigned to a teaching job just before the war in strasburg and she's alone and a bit for loan and grumpy and here's what she does about it. in the morning in the soft sultry chamber in the sweaty overradiated room, sitting in the window peeling tangerines, peel them gently, do not bruise them as you watch soldiers pass and pass the corner and over the canal over to the washed rin. if you find the kiss the section section save it for al, her husband. listen to the chamber maid thumping up the pillows and murmuring encouragement of the tails while she mutters the seduction and bicyclists who ride more than wheels, tear delicately from the soft pile of affections, each velvet string. you know, those white pulpie strings pull them off be careful. the sections of the tangerine are gone and i can not tell you why they are so magical. perhaps it's one little shell sheer of eunanimous until on a chinese bowl but crackles so tinny or crackles under your teeth or perhaps it's the rush of gold pulp unde