From: (Bill Bill)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: remembery night or days
Date: 1 Dec 2000 23:56:06 -0800
Organization: wareware
Lines: 43
Message-ID: <90a9um$6n8$>

Whatever the words were, Tom had left his knife on the
car seat and was talking to the sky with his eyes closed.

"I told you not to eat that shit," he said.  "I told you
I never stole a gun.  You always should have believed me.
You were the only one I told the truth."  

The sky's eyes glinted a million ways, meant a million
men.  Tom's father waited to rise in the east, anxious
to hear the conversation.  Tom continued to see only 
the space between the lights.  "Sometimes I cut my hair
with your knife.  You had it in your pocket every second."

Mallea was pretending to sleep in the back seat.  She had
argued with Tom about leaving the blades open.  She was
imagining, almost dreaming, that she was the night fog
slipping over the mountain, over the back of the driver
seat, wrapping her hands around the blade, closing it
into the knife.  She had a history of wild fantasy.
She sat up and grabbed the knife, buried the blade in
the back seat, held the friendly end with her soft touch.

Tom and Mal left the sanitary restaurants behind long
ago.  They are far beyond the edge of the cities.  In
the dark around them only the wild dogs watch, only a
sound from a river runs past.  They have given up on
you, and your warm light switch, and your instant
water, and your false family in the nightly box lights.
They have paint, and clay, and a corporate plan.  They
think of you as small somehow - a lovely figure to 
paste on the hood ornament with a dollar.  They are 
creating the Future Of Love 2000, in memorial of the 
one bright day in the sun.

Ironically, the sun rises.  Don't you wish you were
the sun?  Every single day.  No matter how the story
ends, you see the stage struck and the actors go home
to warm arms or ticking clock.  You wait for the cold
and everything else is amusements.  What if the sun
himself were able to learn a new trick?

bill                    bill                    wetware                     com