It is her special time- the moment when today at once explodes into yesterday and tomorrow-when she turns her back on what is past, sometimes with regret, other times with relief, and in hope reach out to what lies waiting. In the moonlight she slips out of the ridiculous nightgown someone had insisted she wear as befitting a civilized poster and stretches her arms upward to Diana, goddess of the moon and of the hunt, who carresses her outflung fingers lightly with her own soothing silver touch. Tilting her head back until the curtain of gleaming gold falls back from the delicate contours of her face, her azure eyes close in the ecstasy of her communion with the night. Now, in the silence, she can wander without fear of discovery among the hushed posts of the day, to wonder at the wells of emotion tapped with profligate disregard for where the streams may flow,
marvel at the woven tapestries of words produced by so many with such ease and often with so little thought.
She looks around and studies this place-shifting the Uzi as if its weight had life of its own and urged her on. The anger and the hurts press at her mind. Striding to the new altar next to the barbacoa, she dips her hand in, feeling the now cool blood coat her slender fingers. She examines the dark stain and dispassionately begins to paint her cheeks with the ritual markings...
"Don't allow yourself to be confused," the voice comes from the shadows. SHe doesn't turn-there is no need; she knows the voice as well as her own. "Look around you." A hand takes hers and pulls her away deeper into the thread. She almost trips again over
some puns dropped by ALex inadvertantly during the explosion of wordplay from the day. On the left are the wonderful wordpictures of Gauguin.
"Well, then of course, there's Freddy," the voice murmurs, somewhat apologetically, as they stare at the black letters shouting,"BEAVIS AND BUTTHEAD RULE".
"I should have taken care of him when I had the chance." She speaks for the first time.
A desk, proudly sporting the nameplate "JEFF-YOUR INFORMATION OFFICER", is covered with excited news announcements and reference materials on insects. On the padlocked trunk of small appliances from which rose the hum and buzz of irritated irons and blenders complaining at their incarceration, lay the debris of Janice's insect mudcondos.
A brochure of the zoo with Janet's name on it floated to the floor as they passed. She just misses stubbing her toe on the airtank propped against the wall, as she studies the stock charts pinned over it, carefully printed in the blood of small and large animals.
"Enough?" the voice asks. She nods.
They turn and walk out, avoiding the polysyllabic posts of Thomas and penni.
"It's good." she whispers. Turning, she raises her still damp hand to the face opposite and carefully draws the symbols across the voice's cheeks.
"It was right." the voice agrees.
Their eyes meet and they smile. |
