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By Tom Robbins Submitted by Misti Date: 2002 Jun 15 Comment on this Work [[2002.06.15.13.25.15205]] |
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It is dawn now. The perfumed curtains have been removed and from where I sit typing I can look directly into Amanda's sanctuary. She is packing. Her face is flushed with that passionate serenity that is evidently known only by those who live outside of man's laws and according to nature's. In my own head an odd new joy is crowing. Amanda has just informed me that she is pregnant again. At first I thought she meant by me. I realize that it has only been a few hours, but after all, she is clairvoyant. But, no, alas, it wasn't I. Presumably, it was the magician. Although, it may have been Plucky Purcell. Or one of the wayfaring black men who stopped off at the roadside attraction. Who knows? She is placing her belongings in an old wicker suitcase. Many possessions will be left behind. Without regret, I imagine. She has just laid in some folded panties. And some butterflies. She is not packing as would one who was off to an institution or an execution. Or who was returning to the family hearth. She packs like one who is about to run away with the whirlwind of life. She just put in some gypsy toe-bells. And the tsetse fly. As it has for days, a language of rain babbles against the windows. It sounds fresh and right to me now. ....Amanda is starting to come toward me now. Coming to kiss me good-bye. In her face I notice a terrible beauty. Like the terrible beauty of nature itself. It reveals to me two facts. One: she loves me deeply. Two: She is completely indifferent as to whether she ever sees me again. Looking past her to her suitcase, I ascertain that it is not yet full. Good. For she has promised to leave room in it for this manuscript. Reader. Let this be a signal to you. If this manuscript has survived, it will mean that Amanda has survived. And if AMANDA is ALIVE... And JESUS is DEAD.......... ........................... ........................... Pine Cones on the Tent, It's a cold, clear morning; the sun has come over the canyon wall, but you're still dozing around, when something hits the tent. Open the flap and the sun's in your face; the world is ready. Let Amanda be your pine cone. |