sometimes things just got inside him things occurred to him that made him
ponder
Where the hell did that come from?
more often than not he hadnt a
clue and if called out on what he said hed say
I
was possessed
there was nothing to be ashamed
of or seek to tender any kind of excuse
Possession is
nine-tenth the Law
the eyerolls followed
not that he noticed or was
impressed
there
was scarcely little around him that intrigued fascinated or inspired him
their emphatic eyerolls and oohs
lacked substance
but when Hell came to him he
usually quietly paid attention
reading Faulkner may have
contributed his disarray
as he walked down a hill on a
high curbed street their curbs poured
early last Century
though parcels of this western towns curbs were fashioned with
stone slabs
quarried cut and then laid
end to end
they
were fascinating the Midwest where he
hailed from had nothing of its kind
in
some places one hundred year old tree roots had worked their way under
the curbs and lifted them out of their beds
like mustachioed carny musclemen unkempt louts sporting bulging biceps traps
triceps and quads
in the dead of night
if one
listened carefully enough maybe
they could be heard grunting ever so slightly
descending this sun-speckled hill
fondling a paperback copy of The Sound and the Fury he hardly paying any attention
to either
his footfalls or surrounding
he
briefly lifted his eye glanced
and
queerly and momentarily fixed on brown sugar treats walking along the cross
street
then unfixed and returned
And father said
it’s because you are a virgin: dont you see? Women are never virgins.
Purity is
a negative state and therefore contrary to nature. and I said That’s just words and he said So
is virginity
and I said you dont know. You cant know and he said Yes. On the
instant when we come to realize that tragedy is second-hand.
over Faulkners printed page inside his
head he watched the brown sugar treats walking along the busy street flaunting
what they didnt know they were flaunting
though some did the brighteyed
ones like foxes in a henhouse somehow
they recognised their inchoate sexuality and fine tuned it finer tuning it on
this corner marketplace of watchful eyes
their eyes slyly watching who was
watching them as they stepped down off the high curb into the street with one leg
their skirts pulled up tantalizingly high on their firm brown
thighs
then stepping back up onto the curb and the dusty easement
their eyes searching quickly
their
bright laughter among themselves
the
shy ones laughing uncomfortably into their hands that they brought up to their
faces to cover their mouths
and discomfort
as if they should have been
uncomfortable
they hadnt stepped off the curb
they hadnt been sassy
or provocative
but they could
feel the difference between themselves and their brazen friends
they could feel
their untoward nudge and push
their
accusations
they could feel their innocence
challenged an awkward erotic
uncomfortableness
though
they didnt know the word erotic to describe their sensation or feelings
they knew only its odd tensions
but they also knew they werent
going to submit no matter what their
friends insisted or implored
it didnt feel right to them
not now
No perhaps Women are never virgins
but girls are
and girls are different than
Women
he worked lumber out in the forest the company often placed untried new hires with him though he preferred an experienced hand on the other end of his crosscut saw
Mr Faulkner fucked this
girls are different
late afternoon, Monday,
9 3. 15
1825, Wednesday,
11 3. 15
