Primate. Metabolism: gunky. Loses water in a violent way, on occasion--severe loss of brain fluid may be occasioned by impetuous restructuring of skull. Normal achievements: poor.
"Heads are turning, heads are turning: loss is weaving fearsome malice through this head of mine, mine, through this head of mine."
We embolden the authorities to carry out whatever corrective measures are deemed appropriate. As we prosper, so we dust our lips of cloistered malice. Repeal the flights of this young rebel. Dust his lips.
"We are on the chain gang, we are on the chain gang, we are losing fast, fast, the high-accounted gains, gains..."
Mark and Andy fret as they sit, sit, sit. Mark moves an angry hand across Andy's, Andy reciprocates with slaps to the thigh, thigh, and Mark is left vulnerable in his hostility.
Here is the story that Mark told Andy that night:
"Once there was a chargingly handsome young man, he had lips and hair and even arms of the fiercest sheen, there was nothing between God and his stomach.
"Once there was also a fiercely beautiful young maiden, she had lips and hair that charged, arms that tore relentlessly at the shade in your eyes, and a stomach of no small accounting." ("Hey," Andy said, "hey.")
"The young man and the maiden were made for each other and they became one. They knew one another. For seven short years they delved in, splashed out, came in, hung out, loved in, lusted high and low, lowed loud, crashed short--till finally one day the young man's cow developed a case of syphilis.
"'Hey,' said the maiden, 'hey, how come the cow's got syphilis?'"
"The young man said he didn't know, but his voice cracked. The maiden exposed her tender breasts and began a speech. 'By all that is holy and/or loveable, my darling, I beg you, the poverty of our farm is not such that... The ways of our neighbors are no... We live in an era of... Darling, God cannot be fooled by mercenaries.'"
"The maiden, in other words, was no stark fool."
Mark looked over and Andy was sleeping; he planted one smooth kiss on his shoulder and closed the book. Andy in one movement heaved up and onto Mark. "Except for a hint of your tendencies to the fore, I'd say not bad."
"Andrew..."
"Straight boy."
"Andrew," Mark said through his teeth, "the advantage of a girl is that she's lighter. Also a girl is less prone to violence. That is my experience. At this moment you should be a girl. Usually you're fine"--in a heave he threw Andy off his chest--"but today you're a bad boy of a poo-brain."
"But baby, why, if you know I'm a misogynist who can't stand the thought of a woman's nudity, do you go boom on my sensibilities?"
"You're a dork."
That night they lay side by side and slept. Then Mark went to work and brought home a cinammon loaf and some beef. Andy was an excellent cook. "I have the appetite of a breaker of necks," Mark said.
Perfunctory rousing of the hurts. "I am not going to cook or speak unless you tell me you didn't mean all that about the girl last night." Promised muteness not upheld. "Or just give me a fucking token, glorious."
Mark plants a smooth kiss on Andy's shoulder. "You little faggot." They have a sense of humor, this is true, and they heave their differences onto it and truck it through the kitchen and out the back door.
The boys, the boys lie down and eat.