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Land of Canaan
(Part Two)
by
Michael Dellert
28 September, AD 1991
3:47am
A Neighbor's Lawn on Copeland Street
I'm drunk, sweet lady with the wrinkled dog, and right now, I'm so in love with you. Won't you come down from that Golden Tower, your pale, perfect skin basking in the silver light of the full moon, your copper-colored hair dark in the night? Won't you come to me, like a vampire, take me into your cold embrace, fold me in, away from the frosty autumn night, drink of my blood, like I was Christ or an Aztec sacrifice? Won't you make love to me?
Christ, I'm drunk. Writing all that lonely romantic bullshit. Who the fuck do you think you are, June Deveraux? But Jesus, wouldn't it be nice, to wake up with her and make love again, to shower together and have eggs and toast and coffee in the morning in that big bay window with the sunlight shining in, golden rays setting her copper hair aflame, and the two of us so much in love?
Christ, what romantic crap! What a sap. Let's just change the subject, shall we...