i had a whisky and a coffee.
the lumber sexual had a black beard a plaid shirt and a knife.
we were in the montana wilderness. i saw a bear. he said that the bear was an evil spirit. it was a cannibal that feasted on humans. i thought he was lying to me. i had a hard time trusting the lumber sexual or he had a hard time trusting me. he didn’t understand how i didn’t need a friend. i said he had to understand that he didn’t understand me if he wanted to love me. i had another whisky.
i wanted to have sex with the lumber sexual. he climbed on me. i was under three blankets. it was below freezing outside. he was like the bear i saw, free and opaque.
i had an opiate.
the lumber sexual was a good kisser. the more we kissed the more it felt like we were having a conversation without having to think.
he told me stories about defenseless deer he shot from his cabin window. he was a cynical lazy hunter. he didn’t want to track the deer.
i left my iphone. i didn’t want to think about it or anyone connected to it. i forsook it.
he stood there, the skinny man. he yelled at me. he had beautiful hands
with large fingernails that had black dirt under them. i smiled because i had ineffective hands. his right weak eye was half closed in the mild day light. he smiled and waved and opened his arms. he was very good at smiling and embracing and waving goodbye. he waved and smiled and squinted his weak right eye. he raised his hand to his brow and looked to the horizon and waved. he lit his pipe and smiled his black and brown teeth and opened his arms. he said something i didn’t hear or understand. he squinted omnisciently. i wasn’t convinced. i will spend the rest of my life searching for an honest man i thought to myself. he opened his arms to release me from his embrace. he pulled his nose to think and to clear it of snot. he was good at smiling. there was nothing.
the man with the beard and his blond haired blue eyed wife from idaho had a whisky.
the man with the beard had been with the host’s wife, the blond haired
woman sat on the blue eyed man’s lap. this upset the blue eyed man’s wife terribly. she excused herself and went to the bathroom, adjacent to the bedroom. she stared in the mirror. it was a frank mirror that had nothing more to say than what it reflected. she had nowhere to go, no thought or whim to spare her. no one wanted her and she wanted no one. she choked herself with her hands. she thought about her husband’s mocking round face and small nose. her tall blue eyed husband asked her to open the bath room door. he was worried she was hurting herself. she stuck her fingers in his mouth and he began to suck on them. she was terrified that her fingers would get stuck. he had only wanted to get a hold of her, to calm her down so that he could have his fun.
the blond wife was humoring her husband. he liked to tell tall tales and smooch.