Saturday, November 27, 2010

Thousand: Two Hundred Seven

newly spread and muscled, his hand squeezing the butler’s. A reassurance. And the eyes, like in a photograph, red. A red glowing at the center of each. Samuel lifts his free hand to touch a cheek, but the youth steps back. He pulls Samuel by the hand, and Samuel follows, readily. The youth’s first steps are backwards so he can continue to look Samuel over. Samuel feels caressed by the look, not exposed, received rather, accepted? Which feels wonderful. You think you don’t need anyone’s approval, but when you feel it, feel it so thoroughly, you tremble, you laugh. They

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