She said yes but it sounded like a no to me . . . Feathers make the toes giddy . . . Goodbyes make you weep . . . we bottled up sunshine in empty plastic bags . . . Friday was the first day of the beginning of the week . . . Doc said your tonsils have to go . . . they were supposed to go out with your adnoids last week . . . the storm was catastrophic . . . we cut up trees for twenty weeks . . . I had her engine running . . . purring like a kitten . . . as I stroke her fur she said that she was hot and sorely smitten . . . then she pulled me on top of her . . . "You can kiss me now", she said . . . the wind was howling just outside the shed . . . the lightning flashed across our faces . . . the thunder shook the bed . . . the Saturday Evening Post . . . the pictures I so attentively read . . . when she said she was finished with me , then I finished up with her . . . the storm had passed leaving life now in the dust . . . still her yes it lingers . . . saintlike in the vaults of memory . . . you should have said "no" to yourself and returned the book to the presence of the shelf .