walking into her friends apartment she was greeted Leave him be. before she could say Hiya. as she let herself in

Leave him be. was directed at her friends boyfriend who was a bit of a pain in the ass to her but who enthralled Tara

shed concede he was goodlooking athletic funny witty 

                                                          shed concede she wished she were to drink from the well first

But, ohwell.

they went to a party met him there

Early bird catches worm

                           thats how Kate consoledconsoles herself

truth be known

she had first crack at him

after they were introduced she was pulled away by friend who was oblivious to her hints 

when Tara was introduced she dug in her heels didnt let anyone pull her away

Tara was better with No than Kate

 Leave him be.

What’s going on?

He’s got that bug up his ass.

Tolkien.

You know him so well.

Hmm. I suppose I do.

                       she was acutely surprised 

whenever they got togetherpretty frequent when he held court he didnt dominate he spoke of wild things like no one else they knew  they looked agog at each other and smile

frankly Tara had said as much

                                  the only thing she had on Kate was her sharing a bed with him

If he only wouldn’t read as much.

                                    Reads somethingsuddenly he’s infused stuffed something . . his brain chemistry screams.

Off an running.

Like a mustang stallion on an open range pursuing a mare.

    That’s graphic.

That’s his. I should have mentioned I was quoting him.

Might conceive you’re the mustang mare.

Thank you.

It’s Tolkien.

He’s spiderspinning it, his, he’s obsessed.

Passionate.

Look at you putting a polite spin on it.

sideglanced

             It’d be awfully nice to be obsessed passionate yeah.

    Yeah. I have brief bouts.

Me too.

But then they halt.

Halt.

       A perfect description.

Like a Naziguard in a World War Two prisoner-of-war encampment.

That.

       That’s perfect. I’m stopped cold in my tracks. 

Me too.

But when it’s hot . .

. . It’s scalding, fire, volcani . .

. . An eruption.

Yes.

      Know what triggered him?

I do. Fresnel lens.

What’s that?

You really want to know?

Joe explained?

You know Joe.

Awright.  Hit me.

   A Fresnel lens replaces the curved surface of a conventional optical lens . .

. . You kiddin’ me?

Tara opened her eyes

                        Please please, don’t interrupt. I’ll lose my train of thought, it’ll pull over into a waystation a sidling and we’ll be stranded, won’t get back on track.

I’m sorry.

           Replaces the curved surface of a conventional optical lens.

Yes.

     Replaces the conventional lens with a series on concentric groovesDON’T! I said groovy.  Tickled him.

These contours act as individual refracting surfaces that bend parallel light rays to a common length. Think lighthouse lamps, have you ever seen one upclose?

Yes. Nantucket. I understand completely.

                                            Joe say where he learned of Fresnel lens.

He couldn’t say.

                  Said, No, but I’m fortunate I can withstand the bombardment.

He is beset.

Beset. Beasty.

                  Got your hands full, grrl.

1313,  Reggaefriday,  16  8. 24

1240,  Sunday,  18  8. 24