Read Online All of Us by Raymond Carver - Free Book Online Page A

come
    to this. But it’s sink or swim now. A wrong
    move and he stands to lose her friend, too.
    Her breathing slows. She watches him but
    doesn’t say anything. She knows, or thinks she
    knows, where this is leading. She passes a hand
    over her eyes, leans forward and puts her head
    in her hands. She’s done this a few times
    before, but has no idea it’s something
    that drives him wild. He looks away and grinds
    his teeth. He lights a cigarette, shakes out
    the match, stands a minute longer at the window.
    Then walks back to the table and sits
    down with a sigh. He drops the match in the ashtray.
    She reaches for his hand, and he lets her
    take it. Why not? Where’s the harm?
    Let her. His mind’s made up. She covers his
    fingers with kisses, tears fall onto his wrist.
    He draws on his cigarette and looks at her
    as a man would look indifferently on
    a cloud, a tree, or a field of oats at sunset.
    He narrows his eyes against the smoke. From time
    to time he uses the ashtray as he waits
    for her to finish weeping.
Still Looking Out for
Number One
    Now that you’ve gone away for five days,
    I’ll smoke all the cigarettes I want,
    where I want. Make biscuits and eat them
    with jam and fat bacon. Loaf. Indulge
    myself. Walk on the beach if I feel
    like it. And I feel like it, alone and
    thinking about when I was young. The people
    then who loved me beyond reason.
    And how I loved them above all others.
    Except one. I’m saying I’ll do everything
    I want here while you’re away!
    But there’s one thing I won’t do.
    I won’t sleep in our bed without you.
    No. It doesn’t please me to do so.
    I’ll sleep where I damn well feel like it —
    where I sleep best when you’re away
    and I can’t hold you the way I do.
    On the broken sofa in my study.
Where Water Comes Together
with Other Water
    I love creeks and the music they make.
    And rills, in glades and meadows, before
    they have a chance to become creeks.
    I may even love them best of all
    for their secrecy. I almost forgot
    to say something about the source!
    Can anything be more wonderful than a spring?
    But the big streams have my heart too.
    And the places streams flow into rivers.
    The open mouths of rivers where they join the sea.
    The places where water comes together
    with other water. Those places stand out
    in my mind like holy places.
    But these coastal rivers!
    I love them the way some men love horses
    or glamorous women. I have a thing
    for this cold swift water.
    Just looking at it makes my blood run
    and my skin tingle. I could sit
    and watch these rivers for hours.
    Not one of them like any other.
    I’m 45 years old today.
    Would anyone believe it if I said
    I was once 35?
    My heart empty and sere at 35!
    Five more years had to pass
    before it began to flow again.
    I’ll take all the time I please this afternoon
    before leaving my place alongside this river.
    It pleases me, loving rivers.
    Loving them all the way back
    to their source.
    Loving everything that increases me.

II
Happiness
    So early it’s still almost dark out.
    I’m near the window with coffee,
    and the usual early morning stuff
    that passes for thought.
    When I see the boy and his friend
    walking up the road
    to deliver the newspaper.
    They wear caps and sweaters,
    and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
    They are so happy
    they aren’t saying anything, these boys.
    I think if they could, they would take
    each other’s arm.
    It’s early in the morning,
    and they are doing this thing together.
    They come on, slowly.
    The sky is taking on light,
    though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
    Such beauty that for a minute
    death and ambition, even love,
    doesn’t enter into this.
    Happiness. It comes on
    unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
    any early morning talk about it.
The Old Days
    You’d dozed in front of the TV
    but you hadn’t been to bed yet
    when you called. I was asleep,
    or nearly, when the phone rang.
    You wanted to tell me you’d thrown
    a party. And