other kids are all back at the car wondering what’s keeping me—What's keeping me is that I know George will get better and live and teach the joyful truth and George knows I know this, that’s why he’s playing the game with me, the magic game of glad freedom which is what Zen or for that matter the Japanese soul ultimately means I say, “And someday I will go to Japan with George” I tell myself after we've made our last little wave because Ive heard the supper bell ring and seen the other patients rush for the chow line and knowing George's fantastic appetite wrapped in that little frail body I dont wanta hang him up tho he nevertheless does one last trick: He throws a glass of water out the window in a big froosh of water and I dont see him any more.
“Wotze mean by that?” I’m scratching my head going back to the car.
