SIMOhe poet at the Iional Arrivals Building, holding one hand behind him. The nine-hour Finnair flight from Helsinki has been ex?hausting, but she has met A, B, d D -- Russias so fabulously gifted that none of them has been allowed to publish so much as a weather report. "Thats terrific," he says. "You look beautiful." "They all speak English," she says, "this half-misuood English which is three times as good as regular English." She notices that he is holding something be?hind his back. "Whats that?" He produces a large, eak, a steak big as a Sunday Times. She is em?barrassed and pops the steak into her vas carryall. "I do your metaphor," she says in the cab. "Is it hunger?"
Shes right, it is hunger. Dont tell her.
They sit in her kit. "The burning barns in your poems," he says, "why so many? Isnt that a little. . . repetitive?" "My burning barns," she says, "my splendid burning barns, Ill burn as many barns as I damn please, Pappy." He is older than s……（内容加载失败！）
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