He wanted the kind of love that lives in anonymity under the rock of names. Said she was Ria. Short for Maria. A promise kept to some self of his beyond the reach of words; secret as an omen for the eyes of augurs read in the flight of birds, the entrails of the slaughtered lamb. She washed him in the sink to check for any obvious signs of venereal infection. His loins took root in the hand which held him. She made the other into a little scoop to annoint him with water. The bishop raised his head to see what was going on. Seems like rain your holiness. Heavy contact with the nature of the beast; not a devil or a faun, more a snared rabbit, bucking limbs and a frantic heart. Pull at the wire but it’s tied to a stake. Butcher’s slab, sacrificial altar. You’re very lovely. She grinned and nodded briefly at him in the mirror; the I’ll-get-you-there of the cab-driver as she dabbed him dry with a towel. He meant that the air seemed to tighten round her face until her smile undid the knot. When she moved her beauty left a ripple of chaos on the surface of the world. Come on. He followed her, feeling like the little robot truck they had up on Mars. Or was it Venus. Drum roll from the pidgeon’s wings perched on the window ledge. It should really have been a dove.Birth sign: Libra
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