The Powder And The Glory

The Powder and The GloryThe Temperature in the room has passed 195 degrees. The rim of the sawed-off wine bottle is hot enough to hurt the lips. Surprisingly, the beer inside it is still cool, but the heat in the room is now solid and important. Respectful attention must be paid to it. We sit there in our skins, paying attention. We have begun to glisten and turn pink: two or three men in our late 30s or early 40s, tennis players, handball bulldogs and three-mile joggers, by the look of us; a bo...