I might not can write but I want a piece of a great man to remember.

Source: Hannah, Barry. 1994. 'Drummer Down', Southern Review 30:2 Full Context: heap wine, he heard a car in his drive and some bells at his door. It was Angel B., the Punk crippled girl. She settled inside with her crutches and her bells on what was left of a wicker armchair. # " I know I can't write, but you are a great man. I can get your job back for you. I know some things on the person fired you, some of them taped. This would destroy her. " # It seemed a plausible and satisfactory thing to Smith. # " I might not can write but I want a piece of a great man to remember. Would you dim the lights? " # He recalled the revulsion, but with an enormous pity overcoming it. In his final despair, the last anguished thrust and hold, he tried to mean actual love. He wanted to be a heavy soft trophy to her. The bells jangled faintly every now and then before he accomplished the end of his dream. Smith stroked Angel's mohawk, grown high and soft.