Reprinted from Phantasmagoria (winter 2005).
It is a dark and stormy night. Impossible to tell with certainty where they are; somewhere between New York and Paris. They are driving from New York to Paris. Frank is driving. Eve sits yoga style in the passenger seat of their small white pickup. Full lotus, and the pickup is a longbed, with a shell. The shocks are reinforced to carry heavy loads, but the cab has no seatbelts. The mattress on the long heavy bed, under the leaky white shell, is wet. Eve sits on a floating lotus in the passenger seat, knitting a scarf from a skein of black lopi wool. Icelandic wool, unchanged in one thousand years of isolation. Dual coated, the outer tog has a 50 to 53 spin count, and the undercoat thel a 65 to 70 count. The lopi ewes can be lively, bright, curious, active, shy, flighty, calm, friendly and have excellent personalities. They are not generally fence jumpers or crazy acting. The rams can be sweet, docile, aggressive or protective of their flock. The scarf is meant for Frank. To wrap around Frank’s neck. To keep him warm. It will itch his neck, he knows, but he’ll get used to it. The night has become dark and stormy.