“When the stock market roars again, I\u2019m prepared.\u201d John Jacobs, on the porch at dusk, says things he thinks I like to hear. \u201cDid I ever tell you a quetzal\u2019s beauty is no match for you?\u201d<\/p>\n
I tell him I\u2019m no bird.<\/p>\n
He nods. A branch of magnolia waves in the heavy air. I take a sip of iced tea, imagine the wild life we\u2019d share. Resistance, my mother said, is something a man likes to bear in the morning, straightens him up as he heads out for the day, but night, night is for their conquering.<\/p>\n
I say, \u201cYou\u2019re going to buy a circus then.\u201d<\/p>\n
His huffing laugh skitters the lazy cat. \u201cWhere on earth did you hear that?\u201d<\/p>\n
The stage beneath our feet is peeling. There are layers of paint as old as this house, lifetimes of summer promises, sweaty gropes, fears of getting caught in untenable embraces. I rise, nearly exit stage right.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t remember. Maybe Glen told me you were intent on catching a tiger this evening.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy, my,\u201d is all he manages after another bout of laughter. \u201cMy.\u201d<\/p>\n
I flare my skirt, lean against the railing strewn with twinkle lights. \u201cHonestly, I thought you were interested in my sister.\u201d<\/p>\n
John Jacobs grows cold with defiance. \u201cYou know better than that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo I?\u201d I tilt my head in challenge. Do I want a poet? A man who\u2019d buy me quills? Someone to tame me with delight? There is a flutter in my heart.<\/p>\n
Swift! He is beside me, a row of molecules between his oil, my vinegar. My lips twist into an uncertain grin. His mouth is grim with intent.<\/p>\n
He says, \u201cI should kiss you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo shut me up?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d Such steady breath after strong words. Such spicy breath. \u201cThat? Never.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
“When the stock market roars again, I\u2019m prepared.\u201d John Jacobs, on the porch at dusk, says things he thinks I like to hear. \u201cDid I ever tell you a quetzal\u2019s beauty is no match for you?\u201d I tell him I\u2019m no bird. He nods. A branch of magnolia waves in the heavy air. I take […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":17486,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-17481","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","writer-t-l-sherwood"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17481","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17481"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17481\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17482,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17481\/revisions\/17482"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/17486"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17481"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17481"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17481"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}