“Death comes to me again, a girlin a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling.It’s not so terrible she tells me,not like you think, all darknessand silence. There are windchimesand the smell of lemons, some daysit rains, but more often the air is dryand sweet. I sit beneath the staircasebuilt from hair and bone and listento the voices of the living. I like it,she says, shaking the dust from her hair,especially when they fight, and when they sing.”

“The satyr gave me a sympathetic glance. She was shorter than me by a foot, with large hazel eyes that matched her curly hair. I tried to keep my eyes away from her furry lower half, but it was difficult, especially when she smelled faintly like a petting zoo.”

“I sigh into her and give up the fight. My fingers thread through her hair, pulling her closer, knowing I'll never get enough of her. She intoxicates me, but not in the way that leaves a man senseless. She lifts me up like a breath of sweet air, like sun on my skin, like...god.No, not god. Like the idea of god, the one I imagined when I was a boy.”

“The Bear and the Maiden FairA bear there was, a bear, a bear!All black and brown, and covered with hair!The bear! The bear!Oh, come, they said, oh come to the fair!The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!All black, and brown, and covered with hair!And Down the road from here to there.From here! To There!Three boys, a goat, and a dancing bear![He] danced and spun, all the way to the Fair!The Fair! The Fair![...]Oh, sweet she was, and pure, and fair!The maid with honey in her hair!Her hair! Her hair!The maid with honey in her hair![The bear,] smelled the scent on the summer air.The bear! The bear!All black and brown and covered with hair.He smelled the scent on the summer air!He sniffed and roared and smelled it there!Honey on the summer air!Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair!I'll never dance with a hairy bear!A bear! A bear!I'll never dance with a hairy bear!He lifted her high into the air!The bear! The bear!I called for a knight, but you're a bear!A bear! A bear!All black and brown and covered with hair!She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,But he licked the honey from her hair,Her hair! Her hair!Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!And off they went, from here to there,The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.~"The Bear and the Maiden Fair",”

“Irma, she said. But I had started to walk away. I heard her say some more things but by then I had yanked my skirt up and was running down the road away from her and begging the wind to obliterate her voice. She wanted to live with me. She missed me. She wanted me to come back home. She wanted to run away. She was yelling all this stuff and I wanted so badly for her to shut up. She was quiet for a second and I stopped running and turned around once to look at her. She was a thimble-sized girl on the road, a speck of a living thing. Her white-blond hair flew around her head like a small fire and it was all I could see because everything else about her blended in with the countryside. He offered you a what? she yelled. An espresso! I yelled back. It was like yelling at a shorting wire or a burning bush. What is it? she said. Coffee! I yelled. Irma, can I come and live--I turned around again and began to run.”

“In the happy times, in the tell-me-again times, when I’m seven and there are no stepbrothers and it’s before the stepfathers, my mom lets me sleep in her bed. Her bed is a raft on the ocean. It’s a cloud, a forest, a spaceship, a cocoon we share. I stretch out big as I can, a five-pointed star, and she bundles me back up in her arms. When I wake I’m tangled in her hair. “Tell me again,” I say and she tells me again how she wanted me more than anything. “More than anything in the world,” she says, “I wanted a little girl.”