Academic journal article TriQuarterly

Demographics

Academic journal article TriQuarterly

Demographics

Article excerpt

They don't want to stop. They can't stop. They've been going at it for days now, for hours, for months, for years. He's on top of her. She's on top of him. He's licking her between the legs. Her fingers are in his mouth. It's November. It's March. It's July and there's palms. Palms and humidity. It's the same man. It's a different man. It's August and slabs of heat waves wallow on tarred lots. Tornadoes sprawl across open plains. Temperatures rise. Rains accumulate. Somewhere a thunderstorm dies. Somewhere a snow falls colored by the red dust of a desert. She spreads her legs. His lips suck her nipples. She smells his neck. It's morning. It's night. It's noon. It's this year. It's last year. It's 4 A.M. It started when the city shifted growth to the north over the underground water supply. Now the back roads are gone where they would drive, the deer glaring into the headlights, Wetmore and Thousand Oaks, the ranch roads that led to the hill country and to a trio of deep-moving rivers. There were low-water crossings. Flood gauges. Signs for falling rock. …

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