Untitled - CSUN ScholarWorks - California State University, Northridge
Untitled - CSUN ScholarWorks - California State University, Northridge
Untitled - CSUN ScholarWorks - California State University, Northridge
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tongues all over his body that could zap out and cling to<br />
her. He had to stifle shoulder spasms-turbulence was not<br />
appreciated by his clients. So his tics of wanting had<br />
learned to move down to his kneecaps, covered by jeans.<br />
They jumped and twitched until something distracted him;<br />
usually a cowlick that he would get lost examining. His<br />
mind followed the strange curve of hair along its infinite<br />
road inside the skull. His name was Sam.<br />
And hers was Esther. She was thinking about<br />
becoming an alcoholic.<br />
Springtime-Sam laughed and swore on the inside. Lust<br />
in the service industry, he thought. He slouched in an empty<br />
chair and didn't smoke. Slow day. He wondered if he<br />
should try talking to her. It's been almost six months. He had<br />
entertained the thought for a while, but her eyes were so<br />
solid; he might just bounce right off and away from her<br />
stare. But I hear the jungle rhythms . ..<br />
She was in the cafe trying to drink whiskey with orange<br />
soda. The soda bubbles tickled her face and brought rare<br />
thoughts to her attention. After three sips the waiter<br />
stopped gawking, went back to the bar. Esther relaxed her<br />
shoulders a bit. The tremble was still inside her though. She<br />
pulled her arms closer to her chest, tried to anchor them,<br />
feeling she might lose control. My muscles feel all giggly, she<br />
decided. Like she had just done 20 pushups, but she hadn't.<br />
Her lungs shivered as she took another sip and remembered<br />
John, her last boyfriend. The man who left her to fulfill his<br />
manifest destiny-or in other words, to be a roadie for the<br />
Motley Criie reunion tour. Sure, that was four months ago,<br />
but the tour was just now getting to her town. She'd seen<br />
an ad in the paper.<br />
Sam finished a small boy's haircut. The kid had a nice<br />
neck, Sam admired-the back of it pink and round, tall and<br />
smooth. Sam wanted to cup his hand around it and press<br />
in. The tendons stretched up so cleanly. Sam's neck felt<br />
angry and old. He thought maybe he should let his hair<br />
grow longer to cover some of his neck, to warm and shield it.<br />
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