Page 315 - What They Did to the Kid
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What They Did to the Kid 303
...on a beautiful beach...
“Let me breathe your breath...”
...faced with the mortal sin...
“...and breathe back into you.”
...that could make me fully human.
Swept away, I rose to my knees, vine leaves curling down from
my hair, around my chest and arms, lifting her effortlessly, she
gasped, half-laughing, half-loving the gesture, like a lake dance on
the sand, like King Kong carrying Fay Wray, like Hercules lifting a
beautiful girl, feeling some old miraculous Jesus out walking on the
water, all white and glowing with starlight, smiling, winking, like
Rhett Butler carrying Scarlett, I lifted her, carrying her clinging
into the lake, the warm water rising on my thighs, she murmuring,
oh love, oh love, invoking love, the water rising around us, her legs
locking in the vine leaves around my waist, in so deep the surface of
the flat water spread out a dark saucer around us, night and moon
and city lights, swirling, she sat on my thighs, her arms given over,
around, cooing love, love, love, fuck, fuck me do, her hands fluttering
like little fish, touching, holding, squeezing me, shorting out, trying
not to think of Hank the Tank drowning, how it must have been
like this, wet, and so I saw him, Tank, panicked, breathless, going
down once, floating, spouting, going down twice, spurting, lost,
pumping the cold water, drowning, her, breathless, floating, laugh-
ing, her arms and legs twined around, veined around me, the sense
of being not myself, of turning inside out, forgetting her, forgiving
her. Oh, love, love, she cried, slowing, tendering care. I did not, could
not, was not like other men. Something held me blank, blanked
out, blanketed. I could give myself to nothing, not even this, this,
this ultimate act of creativity, this drumming tribal demand, this
pleasure, this beautifully mortal sin. I could give myself to nothing
all the way. Oh, she said, love me, and, oh, please, she said, hold me,
and let me, she said, hold you, and she was perfect, and I was emptied
of lust but not desire, starting to tickle her, to bring her up out of
any misconception, beginning a laugh, slowly, coaxing her, shivering
in the water, the cold up to our necks, cooing her head to quiet on
my shoulder, loving her for what she was, no matter what, steadying
her head, palming her hair close to me. Hold on, I said holding her
©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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