Dumb fun and sexy, that’s what I like...

About four years ago I found him.  I couldn’t believe it.  I couldn’t believe the whirlwind my mind was going through over it.  My head was spinning and I had no idea what to do with the information.  I called the radio station and blurted it out.  I think it was Skid that answered.  
      
He said lady calm down, you didn’t find anyone.  Look how many years it’s been, the man’s probably dead.    
    
No, he’s not. I said.  He’s alive.  He’s a novelist and lives on an island in the North Atlantic.  I didn’t tell him who, or which one.  
      
I was nervous talking about it, but I had to get someone to listen. I knew how it must have sounded just out of the blue like that and so I held back the author’s name.  It was legendary and I was afraid he would hang up the phone calling me crazy.
      
I told him about the book I opened and found the little spider in the fold.  I never realized the depth of the look or where I was going.  My eyes were on colorful water ripples in the breeze and skipping rocks, but then something started to look familiar.  Inside that cave so cold, reading from my strides of feet in breaths, in every beat so bold.
      
The spider, he startled me and I flung him from his clutch. We both must have passed out from being intoxicated for a moment.  I was headlong and frantic on the phone but earnest in that I knew the identity.  My persuasion finally got the best of him.  The breaths slowed and everything was quiet.  Tell me more, he said.  I breathed out a long pause, then I hung up.