The old priest considered the cast-iron oil pot sitting in the corner of the immaculate kitchen. It was heavy, and his back hurt. The trees growing on the canyon walls whispered to him. "Prepare the ... [+]
A visit. Wooded, wooden and magnolia sheltered. Panel lined to be specific. Breezeless evening. Sticky, warm and screened. Tightly angled knees/elbows thrown around the room. Hazy t.v. Some show. A puffed 80's sofa, velour smooth and richly auburned brown. As are you. Cheeks black freckled. Smoke polished eyes reflecting the passage. Blue flannel over white undershirt in this southern circle. Familiar gold tooth guiding seekers to their north star. And your smell. A mood mixture of chewed cigars outside mason sand aftershave pine oil red clay. Wish - a perfumer would. You are here. Briar rabbi