Mitchell College - Thames Log Yearbook (New London, CT)

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lk ll' lk ll' lk ztHrn?55 You're a great lay. From out of her serene face came those big blue, searching eyes looking over at me. A trace of hurt, a little bewil- dered. Did you have to say that? The dim green light peering down through a floating layer of smoke wanted to know, also. I looked at her very carefully, and something turned sad inside. I'm sorry. You know me, darling. I didnit want you to look at me that way, Please don't feel bad. The whuff of lavender sheets. Their rise and the slow, ballooning fall as they clung again to her body's profile. The rich brown treasure of her hair as it is flung away by the hand which now cups her cheek. The disarming, smooth mold of her neck, shoulders, breasts. And still those imploring eyes. I'm sorry. She softened her gaze. Oh, it's my fault, too. It just sounded like . . . another language. I mean it just didn't fit the mood. It hurt. I am sorry, Amy. Damn. Why did I have to say that?,, There came from her a slight jolt which was a tiny laugh. She tumed and traced the line of my nose with a slender, gently arched finger. She jolted again. What's so funny? She now wore her free, ingenuous smile. Which filled with her hair as a summer breeze came in over us. It brought us back to life. You are! You should see yourself pour! I'm funny when I pout, huh? She teased at my lips. I teased at her lower ribs. She squealed and her cheek fell off her hand. I'm funny, huh? She shrieked and began to flay away at me, at the bed, at the breeze. I'M funny?! Let's see how funny YOU can be!! Q And I wrapped her in purple satin and bore my laughing, struggling captive away from her bedroom and across the dimly lit living room, where she tried to cave in my skull with a huge, tasseled pillow. I fought off her counterattack, and with a cruel laugh I held the quaking, screaming corpse head down over a bottomless pit of perfumed bubble bath. Last chance, Amy! Do ya give??! In reply she smothered my grinning face in a great expanse of billowing lavender. With my most villainous chor- tle, I poured her hysterical bronze form ever so slowly into the mountain of bubbles which exploded slowly, beauti- fully, around us. The room was laughing at our struggle, echoing louder and louder, the patches of suds floating everywhere, the last tail of satin the only clue to our disappearance as we drowned ourselves frantically, lusciously, voluptuously. ilklklklk Watching her breath forming large, rolling clouds under the street light, I stopped and looked at her pensively. There was no way to hold back the coy advance of our smiles. And she's beautiful when she smiles. She kickstarted the bike, bare feet, bathrobe, and all. Next week? I promise.

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Oh? Yeah You're all right. And also beautiful. I'm glad. When do the lights come on? They're on. See? Over the low rock wall, a long way down and below and beyond, the city was turning on its night lights, keeping the evening sky as bright as it could, while dense purple clouds brought on the fog of darkness. With the breeze came the crickets who sat all around, out of sight, talking about us. Amy? Hm? Let's go back to your place. Nwhyr' Q'I'm hungry. !For tea and oranges that come all the way from China? She giggled. She sat up, the long, dark curve of her spine crisscrossed from the blanket's folds. She fished a twig from her hair. I-Iow about the brown shreds of leaves? You're really beautiful. I want to smoke. And it's going to get cold now. You're much too lovely to have a runny nose. All right. Tea and oranges and smokes and a long relaxed evening. Can I drive back? Nope I can't trust myself sitting behind you! Bastardo. You win. Maybe next week? Sure. Next week. We have all the time in the world. 1111414111211 All the time in the world. There must be. I can see - what - five hundred stars right now, and they're perfectly motionless. And the man in the moon with his howling expression of . . . anguish. Anguish because neither of us is really sure what's going to happen to time right now. Will it stop? Probably, since I can't move. How do I know I can't move? I can't move because I don't dare move. Something is liable to hurt. So I'm okay. Nothing hurts. Except my right leg tingles. Itches. Like to drive me crazy, as they say. Look. I don't care. If time wants to stop, let it stop. But not now. Please, don't let it stop right now. Who's that? Are you the man in the moon? You look middle-aged. Balding. Big jowls. And you look scared. Don't cryg it's no big thing, man. But I'd like to ask you a question, sir, if I may. Where did you put my bike? It's over there? Where you keep looking when you're not looking down at me: Okay, thank you very much, sir. I'd better look. See if it got bent up. See if moon-man remembered to shut it off. Okay, I'll look. I'm looking. Come on. Let's look. Come ON! God damn head, TURN!! Oh, jesus. I'm really hurt, I can't move my head. And I've gotta itch. Like a sonofabitch. Ha. Ha ha!!Great. A sense of humor, with me to the last. Ha ha. Please, head, please turn. just sort of fall over that way. That's it. Come on. Oh, wow. Hey, moon-man. Your car is eating my bike. Look. Seriously, look! It's almost done eating my bike already! See? My bike is . . . oh, God, my bike. Hey, moon-man. My bike is almost all the way up into your windsh- ield. Lump in my throat. I'm frightened to death, man. I'm frightened to die. And now I know for sure that I'm going to die. Because look where my bike is. It's inside your car. !!!

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lklllvkllflk I promise I will never again try to fix the tail light while going ninety miles per hour. Thank you, God, Thank you for not making it hurt. I can hack an itch. Two heads. Moon-man and someone new. My God, what happened? He just came right over. Into my lane. He must have been going a hundred! So fast!! I've never killed anyone in my life! Are you a policeman? No. Good lord. It could have been me and not you. Well, what can we do? What can we do for him ?,' Oh,jesus. I don't believe it. Look. He's still blinking. I can hear you, guys. How about helping me out, huh? Where's his . . . other leg? My other leg? I don't know. Oh, no no no. Why did this have to happen? Why did this have to happen to ME? Youl? He just hung there on top of the windshield for so long! Arn I cut up? Will you look at my car! Can you imagine how fast he must have been going? I'm lucky to be alive! YOU'RE lucky to be alive!! Well, let's try to do something for him. Anything. Ask him if he can hear us. Ask him if it hurts. Ask him if he's coldf' And then the moon-man laid down on top of me. Very roughly. In sheer panic he placed a wet, glistening hand in my face as he scrambled to get away from me. He stood there, shaking violently, and from the surviving headlight's eerie beam the blood now covering the front of his clothes looked shiny black. I thought he was going to gag. Or cry. I slipped. I fell on him. Oh, Mother of Godllv And so I knew he wasn't going to ask me if I could hear him. Or if it hurts. Or if I'm cold. And he wasn't going to scratch my leg. And I was lying in a lot of my own blood. And the bike is mined anyway. So I decided to leave. I didnit even look back. I just turned away and headed straight for Amy's house. And the night seeped in to fill the void I left behind.