There is a gun pointed at your head … it is cocked, ready to fire. You don’t move. It is an old dream. You go back to sleep, it will go away. It’s your own creation.
When you awake the morning air smells of battle: canons, muskets. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills the room. You put your nose to the pillow … it is there too.
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The Longer Walk
Tom sits in the corner watching Bobbie. After seven years he is still awed by her strength. Of all the women he knows, she alone holds his attention. She has mystery. She is prone on the living room floor, her toes hooked under the sofa for leverage, doing sit-ups. She hasn’t surrendered to the current fad to exercise, it’s simply that Bobbie is always getting better.
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Innocent Looking Bessie: A Memory
Innocent looking Bessie sat with her hands calmly folded on the kitchen table while a flock of birds screeched and shrieked on the bare lilac bush outside the window. She had arrived ten minutes before, two hours late, chewing a double wad of bubble gum to exercise her spastic and painful jaw muscles.
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