Page 197: How Blue the Sky Was
A Lover's Discourse
A Lover's Discourse
2011
TEXT
The River Why, have you read it? There is an absolutely amazing passage in it about love. The woman the man falls hard for dresses him in his warmest waders one night, packs his pockets full of food, hooks an enormous steelhead hen on impossibly light line, then leaves and says she will see him tomorrow.
She watched his enjoyment as he told his favorite part of the story. Their cycle had just started again and she sat in the warmth of its beginning stage. As he spoke they glided past the place on shore where he had first captured her.
He realizes that he can never catch the fish without breaking the line, so he keeps minimal but steady tension for hours. He remains connected during its journey upstream. He starts to own the fish. Love the fish. In that order.
And they passed the place where he had found her a rock shaped like a heart. And they passed the place where he wrote her a birthday message in the sand.
He laughed and said that when he told the story there was a voice and a stutter and that the voice was the author’s original intent and the stutter was his faulty filter.
And they passed the place where a certain type of rock caught her eye. It was volcanic, created in a moment of passion but cooled into a silent lump and enveloped in a flaking layer of calcium that didn’t quite fit. We’re not a good fit. I’m not the guy for you. So she climbed out a window they had both agreed to keep open and he watched her go. In the future the cycle continued and they found themselves lost in a perpetual state of coupling/uncoupling.
The River Why, have you read it? There is an absolutely amazing passage in it about love. The woman the man falls hard for dresses him in his warmest waders one night, packs his pockets full of food, hooks an enormous steelhead hen on impossibly light line, then leaves and says she will see him tomorrow.
She watched his enjoyment as he told his favorite part of the story. Their cycle had just started again and she sat in the warmth of its beginning stage. As he spoke they glided past the place on shore where he had first captured her.
He realizes that he can never catch the fish without breaking the line, so he keeps minimal but steady tension for hours. He remains connected during its journey upstream. He starts to own the fish. Love the fish. In that order.
And they passed the place where he had found her a rock shaped like a heart. And they passed the place where he wrote her a birthday message in the sand.
He laughed and said that when he told the story there was a voice and a stutter and that the voice was the author’s original intent and the stutter was his faulty filter.
And they passed the place where a certain type of rock caught her eye. It was volcanic, created in a moment of passion but cooled into a silent lump and enveloped in a flaking layer of calcium that didn’t quite fit. We’re not a good fit. I’m not the guy for you. So she climbed out a window they had both agreed to keep open and he watched her go. In the future the cycle continued and they found themselves lost in a perpetual state of coupling/uncoupling.
