Come Unto These Yellow Sands

If there was one life skill everyone on the planet needed, it was the ability to think with critical objectivity

I’m not going to let go of you. I’m going to hold you all night. So go ahead and feel whatever you feel. If you’re still craving cocaine, go ahead. You’re safe. You can crave it all you want, but I won’t let go, and if you still feel like you can’t trust yourself in the morning, and it’s what you want, I’ll drive you to rehab myself. Okay?" ~ Max

Max's scarred brow crinkled. He reached for the coffee mug on his desk. “Motive is tricky. See, what might be a good reason for me to kill someone might not be a good enough reason for you to kill someone." Swift stared at his hands loosely clasped around his ankle. “I wouldn't. Deliberately hurt anyone." "And my impulse is to hurt anyone who hurts you.” When Swift's gaze lifted to his, Max said, “See how that works?" He did, and while it wasn't intended as a compliment, it did warm his heart in a funny way. He managed to joke, “Why, I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me.

To calm himself he mentally recited Wilfred J.Funk's 1932 list of "most beautiful words." It was his mantra on restless nights like these. Ten words that generally knocked him unconscious if he concentrated on them hard enough. Melody. Golden. Chimes. Luminous. Mist. Tranquil. Murmuring. Lullaby. Hush. Dawn...

They kissed, but it was a gentle kiss and there was no urgency. They were tired and they were...healing. They had time. And time was the most beautiful word of all.

Why do you think they don’t like me? They hired me for God’s sake. It’s not like there was any mystery about my history.” “I heard you used iambic pentameter once when you should have used a catalexis.” “Huh?” “Believe me, whatever the reason is, it will make as much sense.” Swift thought this over. Max was probably right, but it was still a weird, unhappy feeling. His mouth curved. “Do you really know what catalexis is?” “Not a clue. I heard you mention it once. It stuck in my memory because it sounds like a cross between a Cadillac and a Lexus.

People did terrible things to each other- and half the time they did it by accident.

Time and tide. Love had its own circadian rhythms, and it was beginning to look like he and Max had missed their chance, that they'd slipped into a comfortable somnolence. Perhaps they would continue on indefinitely, but it was all too likely one of these days they were simply going to drift gently, quietly apart.

He woke with Max's arms wrapped around his torso and Max's genitals soft against his ass. And for the first time in days he wasn't aware of wanting anything but breakfast. Breakfast and Max. Not necessarily in that order.

A lot of kids are shocked at the idea of people over thirty having sex." (Max)

Do you really know what catalexis is?" "Not a clue. I heard you mention it once. It stuck in my memory because it sounds like a cross between a Cadillac and a Lexus.

There are few things in this life more bamboo-under-fingernails than good poetry read aloud badly-unless it is bad poetry read aloud badly.

Just close your eyes and relax." Gratefully, Swift closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on nothing more than the feel of Max's hand rubbing his back. Such a simple, uncomplicated pleasure, that of touch. Max smoothed the thin skin between Swift's shoulder blades. "This is where your wings used to be." Swift expelled a half laugh, most of his attention fixed on the slow deliberate slide of Max's hand down his spine. Max's fingers brushed the final links of bone and cartilage."And that's where my tail used to be," Swift murmured.

Swift opened his eyes. "Your fingers are shaking." Max nodded. "Adrenaline. It's pretty exciting seeing your friend's car get shot full of holes. Especially with your friend sitting inside." Swift nodded too. "From my side too.

He had firsthand knowledge of getting punched in the face, and it was an experience he didn't want to repeat.

Well, Hodge, wasn't the brightest candle on the birthday cake.