****
This next minute or so, for surely that’s as much time as it
could possibly have been, seemed to defy the dimension
of time, so much went through my mind, as if Scotty in Star
Trek was telling Kirk “The shields ‘canna hold!!” as Natricia
and I looked upon each other in icy silence…
somehow the looking at each other was a neutral zone where
we could hold with our weapons set on apocalypse and we
could just rest there….for now.
Funny that the USA and the Soviet Union (whaddya-call-it)
have been doing the same thing with each other for almost
seventy years…..(funny?) “Your tears are too late…she’s
dead.”
****
“I knew your name was phony…I knew you were phony,
your body language with Joel was distinctly foul…”
She got up, pulled the hammer back on the Smith and
Wesson, “Excuse me?”
I walked into the kitchen with my arms raised…
one went down to the chair and plucked
the leather bag…I held it up…walked back…put
the bag on the floor….walked slowly backwards
and sat back down. It was another no-mans-land moment,
a dead zone, where the future could not be known.
****
She got up, took the cap off a fresh bottle of Wesson oil,
pulled the front of her shirt down and said: “Excuse me?”
I walked towards her with my arms raised…one went
down her shirt and I plucked her leather bag…I held her
up, walked backwards slowly and sat back down…I wore
her like a sleeve…