“Here we are,” she said and drove her car into the Hollywood cemetery.
“Nice,” I said, “real nice. I had forgotten all about death.”
We drove around. Most of the tombs were above ground. They were like little houses, with pillars and front steps. And each had a locked iron door. Dee Dee parked and we got out. She tried one of the doors. I watched her behind wiggle as she worked at the door. I thought about Nietzsche. There we were: a German stallion and a Jewish mare.