Solzhenitsyn Playing Tennis
He steps to his practicedforehand. He laughsas he hits the ball. Freedomfrom necessityfills his aura and dimsas the game comesto a close. His bodyguardsscan the sky, the tree,the roof. , they ask him., he says. They walk amidstwinding cameras.He steps over the railsand descendsbrush. A trail opens.Solzhenitsyn saysthe vixen says., she says, he whispers:
