. prayer 327 .

. prayer .




" ... and Mandy ... you know the door to the church is always open for you." There's a moment here and a raging debate within. I settle that argument with (kisses) to my internal others. "Thank you Deac ... i just might some night." The deacon wanders his way back up the slope from where I sit on this concrete recreation of some classic roman bench.

"Really girl? To do what, fuck on the alter like back in your younger days? Invert the iconic T? Slaughter a goat for Yaweh in hope of angelic release?" The chuck's voice comes at me from under the step to my left. He snorts and I giggle at how much of me he knows now.

"Hey Chuck haven't seen ya in a few ... you okay?" The chuck pulls himself up onto the lowest step. "Yeah girl; took a waddle across the street to visit that female lives in that tree-stand ... ummm ... nice bulbs planted in that yard." The chuck studies his fore-claws carefully. "Heard you pacing last night girl ... what's keeping you up until dawn and got you smoking like you did in Romania? Don't let the Deac know you're not keeping the lease promises."

I study my own fore-claws and try to compose my reply. "Chuck ... it's that Romania thing again. There's all this shit goin' down in her family homelands ... out in the mountains and deserts of the Turkmon. I'd told her 'bout what some friends in high positions had warned me of." I cough and take another drag from one of the smokes from my third pack in the past twenty-four. "I keep wonderin' bout her Chuck, bout the ones of her's I met and spoke with."

The chuck's bright brown eyes are lookin' deep at me ... all pools of root-beer and animal interest. "Maybe you shouldn't wait until night girl."


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Image: "Out of Frame" by © 2014