Wake up in strange mood, then realise what it is. The lunar influence!
That explains it. A burstingly ripe, round moon, waiting to be combined with the soft embrace of the deep shadows of the earth! What intimacy of life's rhythm is to be shared with we women keepers of eternity, this very night!
I look down at my helpless arrangement of limbs and torso that last enjoyed action in 1876. If only the pull of the moon were true! If only I could be all plumped up with voluptuousness once more, lose twenty years, and have anyone give a damn!
Then the moon at its most full and beguiling would be worth something! I would steal it and keep it, along with its life force, in the cupboard, then never again would it seem I have taken the crumpled body of the peat bog man to wear for my own.
But I cannot go about stealing moons. Someone would notice. Anyway, it wouldn't work. The moon cannot make something from nothing. I couldn't even get propositioned yesterday in Wan Chai! Maybe the rates are too high. I mean, a thousand dollars? Is that too much?
Whatever. When darkness came, we crowded together on the roof, nursing hot chocolate, cameras, and a grudge about the torch.
We watched in awe. The soft embrace of the earth was beautiful to see. It made the moon blush red.
Have people no modesty? Some of them even filmed the encounter.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
That was a neat film. At least it didn'take forever. The moon did turn red. That was a great effect.
Beautifully written!
Post a Comment