Our Rooming House—DUSK
I continue to kiss Andrea on the on the neck. No, I am not to be pitied. Not I, Meeting with this Goddess. As far as I am concerned we are Adam and Eve tonight.
We are only in our small plain rooms in Our Rooming House with the red rose arbor. But we are along and to me it might as well be a Greek temple.
Andrea mutters satisfactorily in French, Vacillating happily.
“Oui! No! Oui. Bonsoir, mon Piteux!”“Qu'Est-ce que c'est?”“Je ne sais pas.”
I am at the limits of my French and answer, quickly, insanely.
“Ou est le pamplemousse? Est Sur ma tête?”
She can control time in this small universe and when I express dislike of the marble wash basin adjacent the bed. She advances time a bit. Seasons, centuries pass and things grow and tumble, but the basin stays. She bites her lip and frowns, then speeds up time for millennia, now even the earth falls away, but the basin stays.
“This washbowl never goes anywhere,” she complains, softly bemused.
An then she begins to laugh and laugh and I hold and kiss her more and more.
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