Michael Malone - Weebly

translated all they had not said. With the ease of the
evening air, they were reverent with each other. Like
birds at rest in a wave, with only a halcyon sigh, they
touched as Curley McGuire led his slumbery horse
under the shadowed pavilion of trees in the park.
Back above Sheridan Square, the friends of
Richard Rage were analyzing his peculiar behavior.
"I don't get it. Our Rich, and a town and country
grandmother!"
"What the shit is he up to? Making an ass of himself
hanging all over that aging Amazon?"
"Did you try talking to her?"
"Moronic."
"I asked her what she thought of Marjorem's film
and she said the dog looked dehydrated to her."
"I love it!"
"It's obvious, isn't it? I mean, she's obviously
loaded. She probably clips coupons the way I clip my
toenails. Now she owns a piece of her very own living
poet."
"And prick."