Infinite Possibilities, and you'll see the embodiment of Conquest, War, Famine and Death, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, ride into my heart bestirring my brain into polenta, because I know you made up the other part of me that was my life! Without you, I want no part of this world, and you took me as lightly as a fart in a gale. How cruel to have let me see you so late. And so soon. But, enough to waste a good portion of a useful life to show my sacrifice is in earnest. How much can it count if an old man flings the odd change of his life into the vat of eternal unstirrings? Fraudulent waste, it is. Me? I have something to pay! I am to be reckoned with! Cut down in the prime of his life, I can be! ...Hello! What is that? Tucked aneat in greymatching dark of the tarred street one bit of a corner brightwhite signaling to betray its hiding is a lost drawing of my Heloise! My World! Oh! How colossal to own something done of your own creation! You speak to me of a piece of the True Cross! What is it on the faceless figure but an elegant tutu, a cocktail dress, yes! Up off of his knees now, supplication replied, the treasure is brought into the light. And, hello, again! What is that? Tucked aneat in greymatching dark of charcoal but a name! A signature! The artist be done! Like a checkvalve clogging his throat lest his innards bolt out in exhaltation the surging force fills his chest bordering on the real possibility of an explosion. --Oh! Lord! Oh! God! Almighty! Me! As blackfaced blackguards of the night confiscate unremembered raincoat and strewn bills. How incredibly incredible! Salvation a hairsbreadth from a malefic end! There it is! For the entire world to see! Especially me! Me! Her name, Sir! Her name! Her name! Anonymity undone.
And at the top of his lungs, hopping along the way to home, unceasing in his declaration, he proclaims: I love you! I love you! ILOVEYOU, Louisa Golczek!
CHAPTER 4
THE DOGS WERE FUCKING on the sidewalk. She was homebound, her arms loaded with schoolbooks, eleven years old, and no period, yet, when she saw them. Her first sensations responded to fear. Were they fighting? The one with all four on the walk seemed put upon, angry. Somewhat reluctant. The top dog, two pads on the ground, the other two paws grasping tightly the middle of the other pooch, offered no choice. It was taking. For Mary, it was a discovery, a form of physical behavior she'd never witnessed before. First, it was interesting: then it was exciting. It became even more so when she realized the interaction was aggressive of a nature, although conquest seemed the predominant theme it had nought to do with thumbsdowndeath. Not even anything vicious. It was a ritual. Terpsichorean. Even humorous with the tail end of the upper dog diddering rapidly like the tongue of a vibrating Jew's harp. She drew closer, fascinated by the singleminded, full-blank eyes of the one jactitating its moist, red jalapeno pepper into the other one. Like two hands massaging her face, the wave drew her flesh tight, and she suddenly knew she was viewing a `secret' ritual of the world. No! A ritual secret to her! They were...doing...IT! There had been a mysterious bodily function to which the whole and entire world alluded, at ordinary, and at specific times, like at showers and weddings, which drew the blood to her face. She blushed, not because she didn't know--which she really didn't--but because she understood at least partly. It. It was it . Holey Moley! The grownups kept the secret to themselves, but their ribald laughter gave them away when the boundary was crossed. And the church, so holy, and pure, and white, never really said so, or talked about what they were talking about, or would explain when explanations were sought; but one got to sense it: this is what it was all about. Fucking. A word much heard before but shielded in mystery. This was it. So, dogs do it. Too. --Yes, Father, my question for the catechism class today is what do they
And at the top of his lungs, hopping along the way to home, unceasing in his declaration, he proclaims: I love you! I love you! ILOVEYOU, Louisa Golczek!
CHAPTER 4
THE DOGS WERE FUCKING on the sidewalk. She was homebound, her arms loaded with schoolbooks, eleven years old, and no period, yet, when she saw them. Her first sensations responded to fear. Were they fighting? The one with all four on the walk seemed put upon, angry. Somewhat reluctant. The top dog, two pads on the ground, the other two paws grasping tightly the middle of the other pooch, offered no choice. It was taking. For Mary, it was a discovery, a form of physical behavior she'd never witnessed before. First, it was interesting: then it was exciting. It became even more so when she realized the interaction was aggressive of a nature, although conquest seemed the predominant theme it had nought to do with thumbsdowndeath. Not even anything vicious. It was a ritual. Terpsichorean. Even humorous with the tail end of the upper dog diddering rapidly like the tongue of a vibrating Jew's harp. She drew closer, fascinated by the singleminded, full-blank eyes of the one jactitating its moist, red jalapeno pepper into the other one. Like two hands massaging her face, the wave drew her flesh tight, and she suddenly knew she was viewing a `secret' ritual of the world. No! A ritual secret to her! They were...doing...IT! There had been a mysterious bodily function to which the whole and entire world alluded, at ordinary, and at specific times, like at showers and weddings, which drew the blood to her face. She blushed, not because she didn't know--which she really didn't--but because she understood at least partly. It. It was it . Holey Moley! The grownups kept the secret to themselves, but their ribald laughter gave them away when the boundary was crossed. And the church, so holy, and pure, and white, never really said so, or talked about what they were talking about, or would explain when explanations were sought; but one got to sense it: this is what it was all about. Fucking. A word much heard before but shielded in mystery. This was it. So, dogs do it. Too. --Yes, Father, my question for the catechism class today is what do they
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