A dove struggling in a storm grows stronger than an eagle soaring in sunshine.
How I wish I was like the water,Flowing so freely with every dropLet my every emotion wonder,No need to start, nor even stopHow I wish I was like the fire,Burning with every flame upLeaving a trace of hot desireAs a Phoenix raises its' wings upHow I wish I was like the earth,Raising each flower from the groundSeeing the beauty of death and birthAnd then returning to the groundHow I wish I was like the wind,Hearing each whisper, sound and thoughtA lonesome and wandering little wind,Shattering all that has been soughtOh, how I wish I was where you are,Not separated by empty space, so farIt seems like we're galaxies apart,But we find hope within our heartAnd how I wish I was all of the above,So I can come below and yet forget,The beauty of angels which come down like a doveAnd demons who love with no regret.
Peace of Man"Greet each man with words of loveAnd peace,And a dove will be placedOn an olive tree.Leave a man with feelingsOf betrayalOr envy,And a dove gets shotOff the olive tree.Greet each man with peace,And leave each man with love.Ask yourself -One more enemy,Or one more dove?Always choose love.It's time for everybody toSpeak love.Let's fill the trees with doves,And spread the leaves of love.So,Always addAnd never subtractAnother peace of manFrom the olive tree.
Dove held out a hand to Johnson, and he took it—not because they were fleeing a fire and not because she was holding a million dollars. He took her hand to wrap his fingers around hers. His long, long fingers. Her knees went a little watery. Johnson placed a hand on her lower back to steady her. Her ass went a little watery. The trip up her stairs took longer than Ulysses on his epic journey. Johnson took the keys from her hand and opened her door.
Dove found Flower waiting outside her apartment. Flower was staring at her Doc Martins and in a very slow-motion move; she looked up at Dove. “Jesus!” Flower’s eyes were wide and her mouth stayed open. Dove wanted to ask, “Bad Jesus or good Jesus?”, but Flower had already used almost half her allotted words on Dove’s predicament. She felt guilty asking for more.
Oh God. We’re talking about me being naked, in the shower with cooter cream. Please world, end. Kill me. “I know it’s not soap. I just… if it’s scented… I can’t do scented. Flowers and stuff like that. Fruit-flavored soaps make… things… burnish.” She could tell from the peeks at his face Mr. Fitzwell had never stepped foot in bath and lotion store, wanting to try the array of fun fragrances. Nor had he purchased Peppermint Candy shower gel, foamed up his nether regions, and felt like he had dipped them in lava. Dove crossed and uncrossed her legs at the memory. Mr. Fitzwell seemed concerned. “Okay, just a heads-up. It’s definitely not good to put any fruits or plant life near your genitals.” He made a V with his hands and formed his own pretend vagina in front of his pants. Dove covered her eyes and tried to defend herself because now she could hear the sickly older woman beating her supporters with a purse. Dove’s mumbling got louder with her embarrassment. “I don’t put weird things down… there. Just make sure that the cream’s vagina-scented. Just plain. For vaginas.” She kept her eyes on the counter.
Duke was already sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for her. She got in and started the car. Duke busted into a Slim Jim of his own. “You hairy toad fucker. That stuff’s nasty. Your toilet must be like a nuclear reactor.” Dove turned on her windshield wipers as a light mist seemed to fracture the glass. “I’m sorry, Whore Basket. I couldn’t hear you over the noise of you crapping your pants!” Duke took another huge bite and chewed the waxy meat like gum. “This stuff is off the charts. I could eat vats of it.
Here’s the deal. We go in, you stand there like the asshole you are, and I explain you aren’t gay lovers with the pharmacist. Sound good?” Dove clicked her blinker on and checked her side mirror. “All I heard was blah, blah, holding your dick later, blah, blah.” Duke rolled down his window and stuck his face into the night.
That’s sweet. Nice of you.” Johnson put his hands in his pockets. Dove couldn’t help but wonder if he was massaging a sore bag of testicles. Dove looked around, and Johnson shuffled his feet. It seemed neither knew what to say, but she hoped neither wanted to part ways either. Johnson’s default was always medical. “How’s your infection?” Die. Die. Kill me. “It’s… cleared up… nicely.” Dove twisted her hand into her hair.
Sean reaches between us and slides a thin bracelet of red ribbons over my free hand. Lifting my arm, he presses his lips against the inside of my wrist. I'm utterly still; I feel my pulse tap several times against his lips, and then he releases my hand."For luck," he says. He takes Dove's lead from me."Sean," I say, and he turns. I take his chin and kiss his lips, hard. I'm reminded, all of a sudden, of that first day on the beach, when I pulled his head from the water. "For luck," I say to his startled face.
Get me your manager.” Dove held her head high and tried to seem older and more self-assured. The teenager barely registered her request. “Do it now. My friend here is about to crap his pants. Do you want to smell it?” Dove slapped her hands down on the counter, snapping the life into the girl. “Do you want to smell his shit?