Kind of busy today with the art fair (mostly busy suppressing my homicidal urges toward the human herd, I’m afraid) so I’ll burden you with another piece of my juvenilia circa 1975 —

The moonlight stretched like a road onto the water. I was compressed, at the eye of a hurricane, the sand tingling around me. I felt rather than heard her tenuous footsteps as she led herself to my side. Her hand grazed my shoulder and fell to my hand, joining there as if it were another part of my body, our shared blood flowing in and out with the waves. The dance of the figures of light upon the water was complicated by the arrival of a warm rain, its drops flowing directly to our veins. There was thunder beyond the dome of the sky, adding a gentle bass line to the sonata.

The waves slowly began to shift colors; now red, now blue, now a muted yellow. Huge undefined shapes played underneath the water’s surface, threatening to break out onto the shore. There was a fluttering as great flocks of phoenixes and nightingales wheeled endlessly above.

"What is happening?" She said, her face calm, devoid of fear or wonder.

"Can’t you see?" I said gently. "It’s the end of the world." Leaning back slowly, I closed my eyes.