Academic journal article Dialogue : A Journal of Mormon Thought

Trevor at the Fountain

Academic journal article Dialogue : A Journal of Mormon Thought

Trevor at the Fountain

Article excerpt

Armed lightly with his dark English wit, and a shade

of amber from Woodpecker Ale, Trevor's blue eyes glaze

a smile as he reclines at the market fountain in Cambridge,

just like a Roman soldier would resting in his rags after

the long march from Colchester, Paxman's town. He

inhales the musty air behind St. Mary's Church, where

on wet days the gargoyles spit down on the market world

below, wanting to wash it all away, restore it to the quiet

of Evensong. The sight of him pushes hard against the

rumour shuttling about the Commons that he was once

a college don. Was it at Jesus, Christ's, King's or Queens'?

Could be. Maybe not. Likely, though, it once dawned on

him to feast at High Table. He sluffs against the font stones,

looking for cover, like boulders do in the creek at Wildwood.

With alcohol-twisted sentences, Trevor burbles now and then.

His school-boy memory on full display, he peacock shrieks:

"Stoppard, ahh marvelous, once wrote: 'The longest distance

between two points is a trombone.' You should try to explain

the geometry of that if you can!!" As Trevor professes, his

tongue moves slower than the speed of the sounds. Red-faced

and mussed, he waits for the fountain to cleanse him, the steeple's

shadowed cross to bless him. …

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