“But as to Dulcinea herself what her name given exudes as a true and perfect love an illusion worthy of any and all knight-errantry she was like my sister friend who told me all kinds of secrets innermost secrets and confiding them while I confide this in you so you know you ain’t the only one who wishes adventure who wishes to be special…  Yes.  She told me when we were just kids not much younger than you how she still believed in her folks her mom and dad though divorced before she was born how they still loved each other somehow someway because they were still good friends who confided in one another spending time together with the children she and her brother Ben and even there together that day my daddy finished the tree house for us.  The tree house that when you climbed it you could see the Sabine running in the distance and now when I see the river here it calls back that time when we were young children of East Texas revolted by kissing one another something you may not understand since now kisses don’t seem so revolting and you’ve never been outside Illinois and no trips across the river here across that ol’ man the Mississippi encapsulating what was once revolting and what ain’t revolting no more all of it there in its fixed course and always changing—No, no amount of times you traveling across that bridge across that river in drought and flood into the city on the other side gives you that feeling the feeling of the big thickets there and how that tree the tree my daddy chose for our tree house don’t grow here leastways…  But Dulcinea she still kept the faith that though her parents lived their lives separate now they still were as one in her and Ben and though she told me they had horrible fights where they said and did horrible things to each other not because of some other love (well maybe her father David loved something else) but because of money her father an artist a musician didn’t make on his guitar a guitar I remember seeing not the electric one he played in shows back in Austin city limits but that acoustic guitar with a capo and a dollar bill in the strings giving it the sound of a snare drum and that hollow sound from a bullet hole in it and even now nearly forty years later I still remember the sound of it when he played for us children—Dulcinea loved her father and even for a time wanted to sing like her momma did who told her, ‘I just got burnt.  I got burnt by him too many times…’ but Dulcinea believed somehow someway in their heart of hearts they still remembered just like I remember the sound of that guitar.  They still remembered memories that had both of them in it in years back where when you think about them you even wonder if they were the best times the good times of your life never to be repeated like how you as a young man may feel now going to high school and maybe even off to college one day… Yes.  Times never to be repeated but Dulcinea in her heart still beating dreaming her momma and daddy had those memories both of them in them and that’s what you learn about time and wanting to be loved in it because maybe all those memories of good times better times they ain’t lies when you recall not what you got out of them but what you gave to them what you gave to the past maybe all the love that ain’t got nothing to do with it somehow someway eternal remaining un-decayed even in dying because it goes back to what inspired it in the first place and that’s how it’s a circle in what she Dulcinea still held in her heart as true existence when she thought about what she came from and experienced her first kiss for she and my brother Aaron kissed for the first time there in that tree house…

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