Gnarled by sciatica now, lurching from chair to chair, facial features formless, how can anyone stand to look at that?
What she says is that one visual image supplants all others.
Just south of the Mason-Dixon line in the WHITE CLAY CREEK PRESERVE, long ago, in the parking lot looking down the slope toward the South, a vision:
Bursting out of a grove of trees in the middle of the slope, an 8-point stag, a tall naked man in full-on pursuit. The stag breaks away and heads across the road and back toward Maryland and Pennsylvania and Arcadia.
As he makes his way up the slope the man is revealed to be wearing tan running shorts.
"How far did you chase him?"
My absolutely truthful reply: "Not more than two miles."
She says, being absolutely truthful, "That is how I see you, still."
What she says is that one visual image supplants all others.
Just south of the Mason-Dixon line in the WHITE CLAY CREEK PRESERVE, long ago, in the parking lot looking down the slope toward the South, a vision:
Bursting out of a grove of trees in the middle of the slope, an 8-point stag, a tall naked man in full-on pursuit. The stag breaks away and heads across the road and back toward Maryland and Pennsylvania and Arcadia.
As he makes his way up the slope the man is revealed to be wearing tan running shorts.
"How far did you chase him?"
My absolutely truthful reply: "Not more than two miles."
She says, being absolutely truthful, "That is how I see you, still."
No comments:
Post a Comment