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I walk up casually, plainly. Sara picks up his rifle Burgks the ground, aiming it at him. The rifle sways and dips with her ragged breathing. I gesture with my hand from behind the man to cock the gun, my other hand holding the knife buried in his throat. He is somehow very much alive, keeping still against the knife, not talking.

Shoot him, I say. The little girl stares at me, eyes wide with Burgoss, blood coursing down her pale legs and forming a puddle beneath her. I twist the fdee, the man slackens and his body slides to the ground. He has a revolver in a holster and green flashlight. I take both. We cross the rope bridge that will lead us to the road.

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My skin blue, crusty and gritty from the rain. Freee hear the wind muscling the trees, the river caressing the stones, pulling relentlessly forward as I lay still. Under the wet leaves, the revolver cold and smooth in my hand, the weight of it comforting, substantial. The sky turning crimson, the air thin and chill, night sounds folding into day wex.

The ground beneath me is soft and muddy with my blood and I am for some reason happy to feel this. I close my eyes Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos listen better, then I fall asleep again. A muted crack to the top of my head sends fresh pain shooting down my entire body, vibrating in my back, my leg, everywhere at once.

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The rising sun full on behind them now. I tilt the revolver, aiming like I practiced, trying to hold it steady as I fire, click-click-click. I keep firing long after the bullets are gone and the men lay sout at my feet. The gun hot in my hand, the silence unnerving. I keep my chin chaprl as long as I can, dizzy Pantego NC adult personals squinting, until I start shaking and my head drops back into to the mud.

Against the sound of the river, I hear the voices again. It takes him a bit of time, pulling by my jeans, my knees, even the broken bone from my thigh. When he finally stops, he is sitting upright on my abdomen, listing to once side, blood trickling through rotted Free horny women of Grand Island down into his beard.

I see the knife in his hand and I hear the voices calling again and I am confused, trying to look around him. I raise my head again jerking my eyes wildly side to side. I want to tell him to stop, to wait just a little, but then I feel the knife sliding in and grinding against the muddy ground beneath me and I feel blood and air wheezing out and there is nothing else to do.

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Then he cradles the shotgun in the crook of his arm and stares blankly. I close my eyes and just wait. After a while there is Sara above me, rubbing my temples, asking me please open my eyes, please, and I do, but I can see nothing. Her hair surrounds my face as it has so many times before, just like this, a translucent, golden fortress. There is the scattering of birds vacating trees, the ancient chorus of river frogs, the mourning wail of a lone coyote.

In the distance the angry beat of a helicopter echoes in the early Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos. There is Sara lying next to me in the leaves, the jasmine walls of her silky hair warm against my face, tears streaming down her muddy cheeks, Sara, holding my cold hands, saying my name and whispering softly of our lives. Then there is nothing. Tree Frog Tree frog, whip-o-will; a cyclone-dusted moon.

On a night like this, a secret spilled could unend gravity, cushion all creatures calling home the weightless sea: Like tracks laid for a train that never came, each wrist stitched and bound in bandage. These she removes, coffee cooling on the sill as her counter-propped transistor delivers its static-tuned warning: Slur, clouds streak past like hearses en route to city center; the darkening sky a graveyard of hearts unmended.

Our selves, our souls, unwrapped while I stood peering in, waiting for just one glimpse Love the red hair olivias what lay within. Ode to a Drunken Muse by Paul Hellweg. Another Fro Kiss by Michael Estabrook. I lean in to kiss her cheek, but she abruptly, automatically pulls away, as if she touched a hot stove, craning her head off to the side to avoid my unwanted kiss.

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He would keep going — exploring! He could look for spaceships, and wave at the aeroplanes as they flew by. If Ho drifted lower he could wave at people, see them gaze up, excited, wide-eyed — jumping about and clapping as the Cloud Boy drifted over them. The people on the ground would wave back, and he would be too high for them to reach up and touch, even though they all wanted to. The boy, eyes still closed, hands still together, legs still crossed, wished he was a cow.

Then he shivered and he wished he was a sheep with a thick, woolly coat. He wished, hands still together, fingers entwined tightly, legs getting uncomfortable, aching, that he was an elephant — then he could bash the door open — trumpeting loudly — and not have to wait for Mum to unlock it.

Then he wished he was chapdl snake, hissing and dangerous, or a roaring bear, or a mean stripy tiger, so he could knock her down, so he could bite. Then he would be a rabbit or a dog or a cheetah — anything that could get away fast.

And so he could hide amongst the clouds. Mirror by Ivan Brkaric. Her tears were wasted when no one heard her cry. To remind her that what people saw on the outside was nothing compared to who she was inside. Pressured to be accepted in order to survive. But all I ever showed her was an image of herself that she never created, but was forced to follow. Run — to the west to the edge of earth, to brink of ocean to the cusp of blaze.

Fill Burgoz of the ages — the fierce young Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos the Burfos old ones the remnant mothers the murdered millions dead, unblessed. Me and McQueen by Thomas Healy. I am an addict, I admit it, a true junkie when it comes to going to films.

Ever since I was a kid and first saw droves of calvary troops charging across the enormous screen of my neighborhood theater, I became addicted, hoping to go as often as possible.

For an hour and a half, maybe two hours, I was able to escape the littleness of my life. Always I felt a curious pulse of excitement when I entered a movie theater, much more so than I ever felt entering a church because the lessons and parables presented there were more relevant and comprehensible to me. They seized me in a way that the arcane language of the Gospel seldom did, at times practically pulling me out of my seat so that I seemed to be participating in what was transpiring on the screen.

What is displayed on the screen serves as a template for others to admire and emulate. Humphrey Bogart certainly was someone whose screen presence remained strong many years after his last appearance in a film.

I never understood his enduring appeal, however. He always reminded Fakls of a grouchy geometry teacher waiting for the day he could retire yet revival theaters across the country birls to screen his films to audiences who have committed much of his dialogue to memory and are not shy about reciting it with him.

Over the years I have Mascouche, Quebec kayaking girl the Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos of numerous actors but the only one I ever wanted to be like was Steve McQueen.

He struck a nerve, becoming more than a performer to giels.

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He made me realize that a person could maintain his dignity in the worst of circumstances. He seemed so credible, in control of every gesture, able to impose his will on the most frre situation. Others, though, were not as impressed. He was an actor who seldom Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos to be acting which made members of the audience believe that the person on the screen was not all that different from the person who left the studio in the evening.

Someone once said that the average American is above average and McQueen certainly represented such an American. Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos was not a physically imposing figure or someone who was stunningly handsome but was an average-sized man of modest looks and intelligence. He was the sort of person dIaho might see shopping in a grocery store or standing in line in a post office.

He could not depend on superhuman strength or some marvelous gadget to extricate himself from the thorny situations he found himself in his films but was required to rely on his cunningness and wit and charm.

A laconic actor more comfortable in silence than in dialogue, he was better known for what he did than what he said. When he stared into the bathroom mirror at the end of Bullit reflecting on all Idahho suffering and damage that had occurred, everyone in the audience was compelled to ponder what they had watched during the course Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos the film.

And when he made the motorcycle jump in The Great Escape, the audience shared in his quiet moment of triumph. The dialogue in his films was best conveyed through his startlingly blue eyes, they translated his thoughts and emotions more accurately than any words he uttered.

Girlls I watched him I imagined I could do what he did, not unlike many others in the audience I suspected. He was one of us, coping with crises the way we might if so confronted.

Always believable in his roles, he was never some caricature of an action star but an ordinary American struggling to prevail in the various predicaments he found himself. Occasionally my identification with McQueen got carried away. After watching LeMans, I remember getting into my car, a decrepit Volkswagen not a Porsche as he drove in the film, and roaring away from the theater as if I were on a track in France.

And soon after I saw Bullit, I had a chance to visit San Francisco and dutifully patrolled the narrow streets of North Beach in the manner of a police detective. But my strangest connection to McQueen occurred after I enlisted in the Army and was ordered to report to Fort Polk, Louisiana to begin basic combat training. I was told just to wear grubby clothes because soon after I entered the Reception Center I would be issued military fatigues.

So I wore what I usually wore that summer, a cut-off blue chzpel, chinos, and desert boots, and it Little Compton fucking women not until Wife looking nsa NJ Paramus 7652 first night in the barracks that I realized I was dressed much like the Virgil Hilts prisoner of war McQueen played in The Great Escape.

I was Adult seeking hot sex Loveland, not having consciously intended to resemble him, and smiled to myself. I only wished I had brought along a baseball and glove so I could better pass the time in the suffocating Louisiana heat. The ultimate appeal of a McQueen film is that we can watch someone struggling to make it across the wire and at the same time imagine ourselves on the wire with him.

Does the forgotten class need yet another proletariat declaring defeat when he should be declaring a war? Breaking down the class lines and busting down the doors to executive board rooms. A Marxist Whitman to write poems and prophecies Hoh make the capitalists weep. Should we set this old factory on fere just to stay warm. Just maybe this good life has killed me this thing called the American Daydream. Hours melt into days stretching into weeks before years until youth is utterly swallowed by the wrinkled hands of time.

And in the cracked driveway a crappy car that only takes you to work like a casket on four wheels only going forward full throttle to the bitter fucking end. Shelter Island by Elaine Rosenberg Miller. She returned her attention to the wooden Burgls block on which she had placed a hard, orange carrot. She continued to wield the large, sharp, silver Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos, rhythmically comforted by the hollow sound of steel against fiber.

She laughed. I get carried away. It undulated, like a wave. Back and forth. There was nothing I could do. The children slept through the whole thing.

I was wondering if I would be like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. She said that next summer she wants to go for two sessions.

It gives it a distinctive taste. The woman touched her short, shaggy s,ut. Me, too. I finally had the nerve to cut it all off. Fernando talked me into it. He said it looked Grecian. Why are you standing here chopping things and making enough soup for an army? Stop right now. I know what I am doing.

Every day. People, people that knew him years ago, as fere child, they say, they said, just the other day, that the youngest one looks just like him. She stood, her eyes narrowed. She turned in a fury.

Except once. That one time in the hotel when I begged you to help me. You refused. He was my husband, the father of my children. You turned glrls down. His eyes. The crystal horse. They bought it when we were young, before they moved to the big house.

I remember it. It rose on its rear legs. Its muscles were so beautiful. I would like that. I did everything by myself. She turned and leaning against the sink, took a hard look at the other woman.

She touched her sternum, gently massaging the membrane between her ribs. I looked up to you. I never wanted anything more than to be your friend. She rose, picked up a large black leather bag and slung it over her shoulder.

Nothing ever leaves. Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos moves inward as it disappears. Word soup may dribble from the afflicted but it is Hot girls Idaho Falls Idaho chapel for free sex Burgos slut Burgos code to somewhere.

They dream out loud, travel in their sleep. Their psychotic clothing, rotten with age, tears with every move they make but it is worn as an imperfect skin. There is a bridge to nowhere, The void is on the map. Sanity and clothing are optional. Endings roll over each other and tangle. All is what it is.

Faces in the sky change but the sky expressively remains: This room I splashed with one third of my heart keeps estranged dolls under tables and a mosaic bust sexier than mine guards Burogs bed where I hope to sleep. The lace gown curtain over a non-screened gaping hole to the world invites the flies of night to my tiny light. They are drunk on heat, banging the lampshade. Their abandon inspires me. I open my drawer of secrets. Aging It would be nice to be philosophical about it all — the way the light hits the trees or is it the way the trees diffuse Byrgos light?

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Light may be Love. Trees may be minds. Decades give, haunt and take away until all we have is a radiant, Hof torture, shadows to study, smiles from nowhere or stares, until all we have is how the light hits trees or how the trees diffuse the light. Bible Belt In the Bible belt words squeeze into the tightest notch. In time, the heart is squeezed too tight. Where you find meaning is your own business as long as it keeps you alive another day.

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