"He sat in the bookstore—pen in hand, thought about goats—don't ask me why, goats Mr. Soderman that is what he was doing, and he was looking at some magazines, and talking about building a goat ranch.

"He signed the paperwork for the purchase of 4000-acres of in Alabama; he's also going to build a fence around it, its all on paper though, at the bookstore, on napkins first, then he pulled out some official papers from his briefcase, yup, that is exactly what he did Mr. Soderman,” said Mark Costello.

"He never seen the land I do believe, picked it out of a magazine, the one I think that was by his side, it had a few pictures of it of the land in Alabama, he underlined the land, called on his cell phone, talked to someone, ordered a fence around it also. As if everything would take care of itself. He is here in Minnesota, and the land is in Alabama, unbelievable.

"His drawings on the napkins, kind of helped him know what kind of fence he wanted, because it is what he ordered, described to the person over the phone. I noticed the table was green, and very clean, not sure why I noticed that, and I noticed he was eating a piece of coffeecake, with a strong looking latté, funny I wasn't hungry, I just kind of looked; anyhow there I was at his green table, and here I am talking to you, and there he was looking at all this stuff, sight unseen, and I asked him: 'How can you do this—buy a goat ranch, sight unseen; how do you know things will be ok, work out as you are planning them? I mean, perchance, this is land the devil himself doesn't' want, did you ever think of that?'

"That is what I told him Mr. Soderman, loud and clear, and he just, just looked at me as if I was not even there, not a worry in his face, not a moved eyebrow, or twitches of his nose, or deep sigh. A flat look, and here again I say, pen in han

d, and he started writing out checks. Yes indeed, checks for the land, and the goats, and the fence.

'Here,' he says to me. Combining all the checks together, and handing them to me.”'

"What did you do?” asked Mr. Soderman.

"Do, what did I do, what could I do, I was his lawyer, I took the checks; do you think I'd get out of bed at 2:00 AM, run down to this café and not—I mean…?”

"Changing the subject Mr. Lawyer, why are you telling me all this?”

—Mark sat back, facing the window at Mr. Soderman's back, his obvious humorous back.

"Is that all you have to say Mr. Costello?” said Soderman.

"Sure,” he spit out, adding, "he had them goats in his mind and he knew they were…actually, he lived this before he said, yes that is what he said, it was a repeat, now I remember, that is what he said, a repeat, his life, that is what he said, a repeat! He had to live it over and over until he got it right—so he said.

"What then does that make you and me if he is living a repeated life, over and over until he gets it right?”

"Dead,” said Mr. Soderman—

Mark looked at him, fading: pale, a fainted look, fogy like, he became, right in front of him, then said,

"He must have gotten it right this time”; Mark still looking out the window, everything around him fading now, melting into nothingness, even himself.

Written at the bookstore, while having coffee and coffeecake, 1-11-06, Roseville, Minnesota.

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