Mildred's in the Big House for art forgery and Claude, our high school Prometheus, is strapped to a rock in the Peruvian Andes of his locked ward. As for me, I'm dying of lost causes on Park Avenue South, triangulating acts of God for Metropolitan Life, having come a long way for nothing . . . In this lyric case study of tumult and tranquility, the dominant voice is of a man both enthralled and appalled by the vast national park of the psyche as he scrambles across its eerie landscapes of identity and marriage.