that was fun,

that was fun, she says, we

should do

that

more often.

what? I ask.

have fun? or have

sex?

and I walk out

of the room,

naked, to

flush

the condom

stuck to my

still-hard dick before

she has time to

say anything.

a few days

later, I get her answer:

neither.

and I lose my
first printing
copy
of James Dickey's
Deliverance.