The Baker's Wife

Abstract

If I met her in the library, I’d never think she were married to a dough man. And in fact if I saw her husband on the street, with his torso slim as a French baguette, and his long-fingered hands which don’t seem like paddles or even hooks, but more like those of a man on a tropical terrace drinking rum, I wouldn’t guess that either of them go fishing in the Rocky Mountains on their vacations, or that they avidly read a Star Trek fanzine.