I began to miss Dana more and more. I saw her weeping face in my dreams. I was lonely. I had terrible cravings to kiss her oval Krishna face, to climb on her robust young body -- young love, first love, the pull was too strong, good sense gave way. I needed her like the addict that needs his fix. I bid farewell to Marty and got on the Greyhound back to Cleveland. Oh my God, CLEVELAND again! I was overjoyed to see the wife... she looked great -- the best she ever looked. I couldn't believe I was really there as I stood transfixed before that Krishna face. She'd lost some weight. Her long dark hair was in braids, she wore tight-fitting blue jeans on her big shapely legs, and cowboy boots. My whole being lusted for the big Jewish Goddess. (This awe wore off quickly after a couple of good Shtuppings -- ain't I awful?) Ironically, she wasn't all that eager to take me back at first. She was doing just fine without me. She had a little apartment, a little scene going, she even had cute boys mooning around after her. She'd gotten a job at a hospital pharmacy and was passing out methedrine tablets like candy to all her friends. This endeared her to a host of young ne'er-do-wells who were always hanging around. I moved in with her and we immediately fell back into our old pattern. I went back to work in the "Hi-Brow" department at American Greetings for another stint of eight months. It was the last time I ever held down a nine-to-five job... I've been lucky. Secure in the marriage situation, Dana sunk back into her role as the fat housewife. She stopped messing with pills. Her little fan club drifted away. We continued to take LSD and popping those high quality meth tabs occasionally. More and more people were taking psychedelic drugs. Even some of the less-conservative artists and writers at the card company experimented with it. The wave of the '60s was beginning to have its effect on everyone.