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Cover
Table
of Contents
Editor's
Notes
Donations
Submission
Guidelines
Website
Stories &
Essays
Balance
_ By
Alison Baumy
Contemporary
Cultural Differences...
_ By
Ninni Siurua
Eclipsed
Yesterdays
_ By
Clyde Windjammer
Healthy Guy
_ By
David J. LeMaster
Immortalis Letum
_ By
Sophie Davis
Last Call For Salvation
_ By
Angela P. Markham
My Fault
_ By
Ro Thorton
Pacific Northwest
_ By
Aaron Hellem
Q-Q Ca Choo
_ By
Billy Pilgrim
The Best Laid Plans
_ By
John A. Ward
The Ecstasy of Cooking
_ By
Sam Nolting
The Girl With the Green Umbrella
_ By
J.R. Earlebeck
The Gods of Houston
_ By
Rebekah Frumkin
Poetry
Athena's Owl
_ By
Amberly Mason
But I Have Never Known This
_ By
Kaleen Love
Clouds On Your Floor
_ By
Savannah Bobo
Crowded Lobby
_ By
M. Blair Spiva
Ever After
_ By
Bennie Johnson
Important Questions
_ By
P.T. Bell
Migration
_ By
Sarah Wassberg
Moon Goddess
_ By
Kristina Diane Smith
Oldest Profession
_ By
Ashley Polker
On Visiting Hay-on-Wye
_ By
M. Blair Spiva
Sodom and Gomorrah
_ By
Jessica Fannin
Wal-Mart
_ By
P.T. Bell
Art
& Photography
Jeremy Harker
_ Paintings
Douglas C. Knight
_ Photography
Jed Knox
_ Paintings
and Drawings
May Ann Licudine
_ Paintings
Danny
Malboeuf
_ Paintings
Alex
Stanbury
_ Photography
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The
Best Laid Plans
By
John A. Ward
My palette is restricted to white
paint now. The prohibition began when I decided to surprise Anne, who
was out of town saving the planet while I was alone in our little house
on the prairie. I decided to paint our bedroom purple, Anne's favorite
color. It took two coats, because the first taught me that painting over
wallpaper is an excellent way to remove it. No sooner had I finished one
side than the paper began to roll down in scrolls. I replaced my paint
with water and continued around the room until the walls were bare. They
had been painted before, but I primed them to smooth the surface. After
rendering the walls purple, I bought a purple bedspread and purple
pillowcases. Finally, I installed what the French call the piece de
resistance and Anne calls the French mistake.
I bought mirror tiles and a glue
gun with liquid nails and affixed twenty-four reflecting squares to the
ceiling above our bed. I anticipated the erotic excitement it
foreshadowed, being able to watch ourselves like dancers in a studio,
rehearsing a carnal choreography. I had not foreseen the other less
pleasurable sensation, the anxiety that a tile would disengage in the
night, fall like a guillotine and decapitate us as we slept.
Upon her return, Anne was less
enthusiastic than I expected, but she was resigned to try it. Together,
we discovered that gravity is not kind. In a well-illuminated aerial
view, few bodies are as firm and feral as they seem to the dark enhanced
sense of touch.
We lived with it, but in reality
it never became the prurient playground that it was in my fantasy. When
it came time to sell the house, Anne rolled her eyes and wondered what
the prospective buyers would think. The original fear that the mirrors
would fall had long since been eclipsed by the horror that nothing less
than a wrecking bar would dislodge them. We arranged to be out whenever
the house was shown.
It was no problem. A widow woman
snatched it up. She saw the house from the outside, was enamored by its
cozy conservative look, and had been waiting for it to come onto the
market. Its torrid little secret did not dissuade her. I sometimes
wonder if she kept it as a conversation piece, and what those
conversations may have been.
We left the snow-blown north on
Easter and journeyed south to sunshine and palm trees. Freed of the
gnawing necessity of surviving nine months of winter, we settled into an
airy, slightly disheveled house with cathedral ceilings that fit our
budget. Over the years, we dressed it up, always in white. Over the bed,
Anne hung a framed print of Georgia O’Keefe’s purple petunias.
_
JOHN A. WARD was born on Staten Island, attended Wagner College in the early 60's, sold his first poem to Leatherneck magazine for $10, and became a biomedical scientist. He is now in San Antonio running, writing, and living with his dance partner. |
