Number Eight

Number EightI wake from a bad dream (of Isabel, as usual) and find myself face down in bed in my one-room efficiency apartment over a stable for burros, horses, cattle and pigs. They thump at night, but I like the smell. I get up, go over to the window. I can see the Spanish coast far below, the Mediterranean beyond it, North Africa beyond that. It looks different from what it did 165 miles up.I do 20 push-ups, then I go out into the corridor and knock on my neighbor's door. The tall one, the Sc...