Thursday, June 28, 2018

New Words and Images by Wayne H. W Wolfson

So Far Away

 It was the whispered harmonies of the Everly Brothers singing “All I have to Do is Dream”, mixed with an unknown sessions player on brushes. 
 No, it was those minor sub nautical chords at the end of a Debussy solo piano piece. The feeling of floating on the surface of water, sinking down while staring up at an unobtainable sky.
 She was sitting cross-legged on the bed using part of my pillow to stabilize a bowl in which was ice water.  I do not know what the criteria was for renewal, but she would re-dip the white cloth only lightly wringing it out before reapplying it shroud like to my forehead.
 I was dripping sweat but cold.

She had something the size of a tennis ball. Without nicking the surface of the bureau upon which she cut it, the fruit was soon halved. 
 My head was propped up. The skin was a chocolate brown, dotted with darker splotches and smelling of dirt. Her bracelets tinkled as she squeezed out its juice over my cracked-lipped, open mouth.
 I lay back down exhausted.
 “It will be the fuhlschtuhl. You will dream of tiny octopi. As long as they are purple, it is OK. Green though, would be bad.”
 In moments in which I was awake, but she had not realized it, my one slitted eye occasionally spied her rubbing the pulpy skin on the nipple of her exposed breast. Music floated in from the street but never the same song.

- Wayne H. W Wolfson 2018

Just click on the link for Wayne's latest collection of short stories.

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