There is the shimmering light on the surface of the lake. & now, sheep running up the path. The man in the electric chair examining the young fig trees & the golfers hitting. Reeds bend in the wind. The television & phone are outdated. They could be removed from the room, I don't need them. I have both, shrunk down to the size of a concealed weapon. The walls hum. The children are stripped naked @ the shore & a mother in white bathes her youngest against his will. She lowers him into the surf by his arms & he raises his legs for as long as he can until the foam envelops him. Three sailboats are pulled up, or pushed out, to rest @ the waters edge.. A wasp enters the room from the balcony. Outside, they devour peaches, rotting in the sand. 

 

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