Business is slow Don and I sit around the sales desk the silence only punctuated by the muted whirring of ceiling fans and our profound conversation on life
We hear the backdoor to the warehouse open then slam shut footsteps clad in dress-shoes resonate striking the concrete floor only the store owner, Stan, would enter through the back door without first knocking or ringing the bell
We watch curiously the showroom doors I rise and pretend to be busy dusting light fixtures eyes rolling, Don grins at my...
Outside a storm rages hurricane winds blow relentlessly trying, in vain, to topple the phallic sentinel giant waves lick the painted walls coating its length in salty foam
Inside the tower the keeper, with surprising agility for his age, clambers up the tall spiral staircase to inspect the light which he finds to be in working order the Fresnel refracted beam, like gleaming swords, penetrate deep into the blackness
On a cold Winterís eve collapsing into my outstretched arms loving smiles greet anxious eyes meet cold tip pressing against cold tip like two sticks together rubbed create the friction that starts a blazing fire igniting sensuous desire before our lips seal our passion our noses collide in a loving Eskimo kiss