Coney by Amram Ducovny

and floated over agitated inmates of a madhouse.
    Olga, on all fours and gasping like a breath-starved football player, wiggled while accepting leisurely strokes from a kneeling Albert-Alberta, whose hands conducted a symphony orchestra. Spotting Otto sitting sullenly, he pointed to the twins, joined at the hip by what resembled a large fish scale, who were masturbating each other, as if a coxswain were setting a frenetic beat, and shrieked:
    â€œTake a lesson from them, Otto!”
    Jamie, seemingly guided by an enormous erection, came to a kneeling rest before Olga, who licked his penis with a pitted tongue.
    A lion roared. Olga collapsed.
    â€œGlad to have been of service,” Albert-Alberta said, turning his conducting to Lohu and Mohu, who were watching parabolas of semen land like disabled parachutes.
    Fifi moved in front of Harry. She was about his height. A white cotton blouse hung loose over a pleated blue ankle-length skirt. Her bare feet, astonishingly small, seemed inadequate to their task.
    â€œAlors, gentil gosse
, is not polite to refuse hospitality. Disrobe me and you, zen do as you wish. No harm will come.”
    She placed his hand on the top button of her blouse. He unbuttoned her. His penis was stiff. Otto, behind her, removed the blouse. She wore no brassiere. Her skirt fell. Her hand on his headguided him to his knees. He tugged her pink panties to her ankles. She kicked them away. His eyes were level with a tiny patch of blond pubic hair barely visible against the milky dunes of flesh. The odor of Woolworth perfume burned his nostrils like the vaporized mists Bama unleashed to cure his cold.
    â€œNow remove you clothes. Ze
règles
of
fête
.”
    Harry piled his clothes before him like a sandbag. His erection throbbed with virginal ecstasy of finally
knowing
, but nausea claimed his stomach.
    Fifi turned a sweating face toward Harry, shut her tiny blue eyes, and nodded understanding.
    â€œSuch fear,
mon petit
, is only life. You do not wish, you may go now, if zat please you.”
    Harry grabbed his clothes and ran through laughter. He was desperate to wash. On the steps, wearing only his knickers, he finished dressing. The door opened. Fifi, nude, held out the betting slips. Her other hand gripped his bike.
    Harry stretched out his hand to accept the papers. Fifi squeezed it gently.
    â€œNot forget ze
cheval
, brave knight.”
    He caught his bike as it bumped down the stairs.

I N THE C HERRY T REE : J ANUARY 16, 1937
Aba:
American boy, tell me about America.
Harry:
It has forty-eight states.
Aba:
Is it the land of the free and the home of the brave?
Harry:
Yes.
Aba:
Then explain to me, American boy, why, a few days ago, the
American government said that Americans cannot fight against
Hitler in Spain.
Harry:
But Hitler is in Germany.
Aba:
He is also in Spain.
Harry:
What is he doing there?
Aba:
There is a civil war in Spain. He is helping one side.
Harry:
Is it like the American Civil War? Are they fighting to free the
slaves?
Aba:
That is almost true. They are fighting so there will be no slaves.
Harry:
I think I understand. If Hitler’s side wins, it will be like the South
won the Civil War, and all the black people in Spain will be slaves.
Aba:
The white people too.
Harry:
But white people have never been slaves.
Aba:
At the Passover Seder, do we not say: “ We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt”?
Harry:
Yes … You know, Aba, I never thought about that because I knew
the whole story, and the Jews are the ones who are winning all the
time. Moses is like Joe Louis. He knocks out Pharaoh in every
round.
Aba:
You like Joe Louis.
Harry:
Oh, yes. I listen to his fights on the radio, and the next morning on
the way to school I stop at candy stores to look at the big picture of
him standing over the man he has knocked out which is always on
the back page of the
Daily News.
Aba:
The
Daily News
is a fascist newspaper. It is on Hitler’s side.
Harry:
Then I must not