found this in nanu(high school english teacher friends)'s bookshelf one day. layed stomach down on the carpet of her rented out room in morristown, and read the first story. then we went out a' drinking in afore mentioned morristown square section. the entire time i lit my brain up with i dont even remembered what, all i could think about was a semen and blood stained mattress. wondered if my own looked kind of like that?? if that little twelve yr old entered my room, would she understand yet not quite understand what had taken place on that matterss.
then i looked across the bar at nanu, finishing some sort of god forsaken beverage, while eyeing hungrily a young man who had to be eight thousand feet tall, and i thought, maybe i was the twelve year old who understood but didnt understand what was happening on a matterss. i wondered if deep down, that is why i chose to lay on her carpted floor, instead of her bed to read while she was in the shower, shaving her nasty parts for the nasty evining she had in mind.
nearing dawn, the three of us walked, no bumbled, back to her rented room in morristown. they offered me thee couch while pawing at each other. i declined and drove the thirty miles to my parents house, trying to push the now intermingling images of nanu and the eight footer, and bonnie jo's meth house haven mattress out of my mind.
i could not.
got home, somehow, went online, clicked my way to amazon and bought the salvage used for a very resonable price. have been rereading it in the bathroom eversince, the title story in particular. wonderful to read a woman writing as timid w.t. man, if they all could be built like that, more human, and empathetic, able to handle a mauled damaged uncle with so much patience.....sigh.