And others, as of unquenched thirst, victims of insatiable fairies, stood by the river’s edge as if forever rooted and yearning for erotic apexes with their palms and other times with their mouths they bend down to the ground. And others just out of their sleep as if tied in their sleep, you could say they were coupling wherever they happened to be onto the barren breast of the earth or on the softest grass and they had bulrush branches laid as beds and rocks for pillows; and they were by the river’s edge and in shores and in trenches as if embalmed bodies as if undissolved corpses delivered of their passions…
Sun-bleached and weather-worn grave markers of varying dimensions dotted the plot. What the graves all shared, with the exception of one, was that the prairie had overtaken them. The old man’s grave, the only fresh grave, was already starting to be blanketed by grass. The first thing Joel noticed was that there wasn’t a marker for the old man’s plot so he made a mental note that he would eventually get around to doing something about that. But there was no rush. It was too late for any acts of kindness. Much too late. Even though Joel felt the way he did about the old man, essentially being emotionally abandoned at such an early age, he still found himself dropping to a knee at the side of the tiny grave on the knoll in the middle of nowhere and saying a quiet prayer. It was at this point, still full of bitterness and hatred for everything that the old man had put his mother and himself through, that Joel recognized that your dad is always your dad. No matter what. Walking over to the horse, picking up the long thick leather reins from the ground, and mounting the orange gelding, Joel slowly turned the horse and headed back to the ranch yard. Drifting along the ridges of the hills, the horse started to perk up as they got closer to home and even broke into a bit of a trot which Joel mastered by desperately hanging onto the saddle horn. Joel thought that they probably would have broken into a canter if he hadn’t reined the gelding back to a fast walk. Joel had always been a good horseman as a boy, but that was a lot of years ago. He wasn’t about to test his equestrian competency the first morning back on the ranch. As they climbed the final hill and started to drift down the coulee into the ranch yard, Joel was surprised to smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the scent of bacon from the forlorn-looking little ranch house below. Looking down from the top of the knoll into the coulee below, Joel could clearly see everything that was the homestead. The buildings stood pretty much the way they did when he left that…
Sin Brazen thief that leads my mind to an erotic voyage and your nipple ready to jump over your bra and standing with no skirt before the mirror you accentuate your eyes upright virgin thought my paradisiacal inferno that I long to sing with such fervour
Manolis Aligizakis 