Just a couple of light improvisations on the topic of scalping today girls, boys & those who cannot be defined by such confiningly narrow limitations. xxx
“His black hair was something to behold. I ripped the knotted cloth that tied it. It was as full and thick as a woman's hair.
Making sure he was dead, I wrapped its length around my left hand and purposed to pull the whole mass from his scalp.
David gasped. "Must you do this?" he asked me.
"No," I said. Even then a few thousand strands had ripped loose from the scalp, each with only its tiny blooded root winking in the air like a tiny firefly. I held the mop for a moment and then let it slip out of my fingers and fall down behind his turned head.
Those unanchored hairs fell sloppily over his coarse cheek. His eyes were wet and wakeful-seeming, dying jelly.
David turned and went out into the little street. Cars roared and clattered by. A ship on the river sang with a steam calliope. I came up behind him. I wiped the dust off me. One blow and I could have set the whole house to falling down, just caving in on the putrid filth within, dying softly amid other houses so no one indoors here would even know, all this moist wood merely caving. I could not get the taste and smell of this sweat gone.”
Work had the audacity to provide me with only as many minutes as I used to do these, not enough time to think or get in any slightest of headspace. But nevertheless, here we are!
