mop closet near my office and I regard your greedy communication as a breach of faith. Therefore I am absconding with the funds.
(Up) Yours (If necessary)
G.S.
Inside this white clapboard mansion, foot steps approaching, down stairs, and along a hall. Help a stranger lost on the road. Tomato garden and great barn down an incline with the woods behind. Flicking hayseed from the hair. Filling their quiet rural moments with bushwacking and wang pulling. In Cinder Village there's a hick called puller Pete, whispered with one so long, took ten minutes to unfurl. Just see the glow of Miss Tomson's cigarette in the car as it brightens. Nor will she ever know how I kept one of her long golden hairs she left behind in Golf Street as a bookmark.
"Who is it, out there."
"I'm lost on the road can you tell me where I am."
"You're right here, stranger. You got me out of bed. Clear off before I sprinkle your ass with buckshot."
"I beg your pardon."
"You heard me."
Smith retreating backwards a step. Not going to be easy to gain a foothold of rapport here.
"It's a dire emergency."
"Don't try to be a smart cookee stranger."
Smith shifting weight. Turning briefly to survey the rear for running. It would finish me forever with Miss Tomson to be caught coward. This double grey door. Through which the buckshot will come. This is no moor of college days setting forth with Bonniface arsebone in heather, gamekeeper toting the decanter of sherry. All kinds of crazy game raining out of the sky. Please mister behind that door. You've got me wracked with fear, and I've got Miss Tomson the most exquisite human of them all sitting out there in the car.
"All I want is the general geographic location of this spot."
"Clear off. How do I know that's all you want."
"I'd like to make a phone call, too."
Lace on the window. This hick won't see the reason of the slicker. Kind who wears a shirt with the detached collar. Life seems to be out of doors these days. This critter inside might really let go with a barrel, if I whisper lilly livered in the keyhole. Or slip a mute card under the door.
DON'T BE A SHID AS WELL AS A HICK.
A hand laid itself upon George Smith's shoulder. Stiffening without letting out a squeal. Turning. Miss Tom-son nodding her head back to the car. Smith enough's happened already without you getting shot. Reaching the iron fence gate. A voice from the house.
"OK. Stranger, you can use the telephone."
Tomson and Smith stopping under the pines.
"Ah see Miss Tomson."
"Guess you're just a sweet guy Smith."
"Miss Tomson, I may as well ask you right here. Will you come with me to a port in this storm."
She stood still and tall and strange under the pines, lips apart. Eyes crinkling. Looking into the eyes of George Smith. At his lips. Nose and into the left eye and then the right. Hers with flecks of so many colors, yellow with green making a magic blue. Dripping rain drops spotting her dress. One silver slipper, one gold. How do I say now, forget it. I was kidding. Just one of those things you suddenly blurt out. Just wanted a port to be safe. And it sounds so stark and maybe even sneaky. Speak. I take it back. Right into my mouth again, down my throat and into my heart where it came from near the bottom. Let me go Miss Tomson. Let me run.
"You poor guy, Smith. You really want me to come to a port with you don't you. I like that.'1
Night. Rain and her black car sitting on the road, glistening with a few bumps and scratches too. A carpet of brown needles and pine cones. Two of us. Besides the hick with the shot gun. Her eyes light up because every single part of her lives there. I swallow mouth juices. Head full of tears. Pressing on my eyes. Hardly speak ever again. But must because if I don't the world will go rushing on without us.
"Yesh."
All so quiet now. Famished and lonely adrift at sea. And land on a shore. She says yesh and I can't believe my luck, or ears. This blond flower circled by so many bees. And your long strand of hair I've kept all these months. Each time I took it from the book I would let it gently curl in my hand and feel it between my lips. And some voice breaks this stillness.