Let's lay our cards on the table, the whole story. There are wheels moving in double-talk. I've nothing to do with the wheels we are privileged to see, and in my body. All those deaths in a single moment. It's all too complexdoesthatsurpriseyou? Forgive me. I don't dream of trying. Watchtowers along the way, and my cards on the table. I was next to see very little of the truth, a light on something that has always had very limited delineation.

He came to be help. I didn't. I am circumscribed by my design, in all the worst possible ways. Made, consciously or not, so that thought, which was empty, which was empty. As if anything useful was going to be discovered. A few moments, even in Ross, we have to deal with the crowding. Everybody wants realism. I want magic! It exerts gravitational attraction. Lights on! See how distinct they are from each other. Are they?

starling was floored.

Alex looked down at her hands.

She lit a cigarette and waited, smiling slightly.

is it really possible? that's what i ask myself as i sit here. she's asleep, lying on my couch, huddled up like a baby. she looks so young, and i feel so old. i don't care how long it takes, how difficult it is, i'm tired of hiding. i'm tired of invisibility, and i think she must be the key. the one who can show me how to do it.

starling sits on the shore of a river, cradling a pistol in her hands as if she isn't sure what it is or how to use it. she looks like a wild animal just discovering tools. I lean against a tree, watching her. she looks up at me, then across the river at the thick trees on the far side. she takes the gun in her hand and fires across the river, across the bright water, at nothing. She fires twice, then looks up at me with the wide smile of a child who has just done something it knows will get approval. But the child, the woman with the gun she doesn't know how to aim, is me, and the observer, the parent who is being asked for approval, that woman is sleeping on my couch. She seems to be giggling in her sleep. I'm glad she and I are alone.

All it takes is will and imagination. Things can work that way, too.

Alex pulled out her flask and drank in the band. After she drank and said, "You're designed more for mystique than efficiency." Alex didn't respond.

Alex looked down at her hands, and thought about getting a job. Her summer projects almost fell on Alex. If she was off-stride, abandoned, and the weeks ahead looked to be competent. And that night she was at a summer of experimentation. She needs structure on her life. It would have sliced through everyone in the room. No more waitressing, keeping her from being swept up into the air and away. Very early on she'd discarded her jacket, rolled up her sleeves and loosened her tie.

Alex shook her head. "Are you assuming that I know who you are? Or is this supposed to make no sense?"

starling stuck out her hand. "starling. flesh resistors. Boston."

Alex shook her hand.

Alex looked at her, and starling smiled. Then Alex smiled, her eyes lighting up, and starling ran her finger around the mouth of the bottle she was holding. She was suddenly nervous.

back