Article: 261394 of talk.bizarre
From: ktatroe@frii.com (k.tatroe)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: photographs by candlelight
Date: Fri, 01 Dec 1995 08:22:37 -0700
Organization: Writers are queer so keep away from them
Lines: 35
Message-ID: <ktatroe-0112950822370001@fc-2.ppp.frii.com>
Status: O
X-Status: 

Staring at her shadows dance the walls - she floats as much as six
inches off the floor - he briefly closes his eyes. Memories of painful
past decisions go creepy-crawly on his eyelids. No worries, he thumbs
pockets and turns to go. Blacklights play his t-shirt to the crowd. No
one will point.

---

In the dim light, she's hard to see. She knows he's not the Right Guy
for her, but her family wants to see her married. It's a rare girl that
has saleable talent, and she was never given chance.

---

Ripened blood. He says he can smell it from a mile off, but that's just
a scare tactic. The cops are still chasing him, and they probably will
be for quite some while. He doesn't really exist - not in the barrios,
not in the mansions. Only in his mind.

---

Everyone always tries to figure out Why she does what she does; which
as any good person can tell you if he bothered is the wrong approach.
Girls like her, they're not so much Why girls as Because girls.

---

He looks like he belongs in a comic book: no, not the ones with
big-chested women and lycra-clad musclemen shooting at everything that
moves and glaring with adamantine-filled cavity teeth. The quiet and
tender ones printed in black and white and only available in the better
comic book shops, because subtlety and gentleness are just plain not in
demand anymore.

-k. ftsd-95