Stories
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On the other side of the river, I was young. I could lay in bed in the most difficult of positions with MaryJ, en-wrapped in some way, to show my love and wake in pain of course, but how can I turn my back to this woman ? Yes I will do it - lay like this, arms wrapped round, with the patience and unmoving stillness of Buddha. Young love.
Before the motor cycle in the DC summer-time, MaryJ and myself in a mid afternoon Saturday, caught a bus over to the west side of town to see a movie called Shenandoah with James Stewart, a civil war flick. It seems it had great costumes. So when we came out it was dark, and the streets were crowded with no whites it was Africa except cops, lots of cops on every corner and sometimes police dogs. We waited for a bus west. And people pulled up in their red convertibles and looked at us up and down. What are you doing down here I thought they were thinking ? It was a shock.
And we had any number of outings on my motorcycle, picnics, hot dogs, scenic sites, river water falls, spray face, and I remember a row boat on a lake but not sure how that happened. Just a few images in a summer days lost to memory no more. Or a hot day our feet in the water at the Reflection Pool of no memory but a photograph.
I bought a motor-cycle and so did Andrew shortly there-after, he a used Japanese bike, and he and Simsays the postal clerk were out testing it in freeway rush hour Virginia traffic, and a tire blew and they went sliding down the freeway on their butts at sixty miles an hour, but neither was hurt and for that matter only sore butts.
(9 of 16)
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