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Pastimes : Favorite Quotes -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Volsi Mimir who wrote (10064)	1/7/2003 2:01:29 AM
From: Volsi Mimir	Respond to of 13018

Folk Tales ~Victoria Rostovich I. A Love Story He stood just outside the door, watching her equilibrium run low. The moon is hanging and that's a good omen. The stars have fallen on them hundreds of times. The hot shadow from the tea cup, grays and grazes the carpet which he hadn't stood on for a while. How long had it been since he'd stooped while passing through her doorframe? So long since he last heard the drum roll of her fingers on his backbone. The moment when he should press his hand over her mouth soon became evident to both. It's rare that openings ever present themselves as any thing but the first bees of April. Something must happen soon. His hand must eventually detach itself and make a gesture. Run the index finger from her bottom lip to the center of her breastbone. Who can stay still? Who's moving? II. Resources It has been hotter since we plastered the front yard, so hot the old ones on the stumps ask for more water than usual. The flower gardens are losing their lustrous red; the greens are fading to pastels. Three men and I sat on a bench, under a tree, during the storms. I only want the melody of their questions, weaving with the thunder, repeated daily in my head. They wanted to drink then and there. They asked permission to catch the downpour in their mouths. They were free to choose. For our lives to go someplace wet, I have to drive a truck made from gold, at least gold-plated on the surfaces. The old ones who own the truck are in possession of custard powder, and, at times, concentrated fish sauce, to flavor their main staple-- grains. I need to get some water to them soon, before they get bored with hunger, before they get angry and plant land mines in the riverbed. Spite is action but not solution. But, they are free to choose. I didn't go down for it too well when I lost time carrying water with those who abandoned me, out of spite, and left me wandering. I told them if I got lost one more time, and if I lost my occupation, I would become a pagan, a rebel, a guerrilla. I told them only the children deserve the water, and I could take away the water, the grain and flower seeds, and the children. I told them, of course, they were free to choose in this, and all matters. Resolution seems probable.