|
She is coming.
I can feel her. I can smell her.
I can almost taste her.
The goats sense her, too. They're watching me nervously, walking around in
small circles, never straying too far out of my sight. My slightest movement
sends them into a panic. Even my songs barely calm them.
My keepers are planning something special, they tell me cryptically.
Although they have lied to me in the past, I know this time they're for real.
The goats know. The moon knows.
I raise the pipes to my lips, and practice the song I've written for her, the
song I've been waiting to play for centuries.
Clouds pass in front of the moon. A he-goat mounts a she-goat and humps her
furiously.
Perfect.
|
Take this and drink
Outside
Bacchus
Open Eyes Flashing Past
Memo
Next Phase
Born Again
