“And as an any reconciliation getting back together going back to what once was like the reconciliation Dulcinea wished of her parents every word counts every dream of it even the ones elegiac in tone and if there’s going to be any narrative urgency in what I’m telling you you should know the grudge is born in the forgiven not the forgiving for even though Aaron met in himself a state of revulsion after he had his way with her after pleading in lachrymose tears a sickness a melancholy desire threatening suicide if but Dulcinea would kiss him once more just as she did under the spell of that ending summer light that light in August the year 1954 we at play in a tree with the first day of school following the next day maybe even some of the excitement and anxiety Aaron remembered in the taste the spark of her schoolgirl lips off to learn to write her name in  kindergarten the temptation he later yearned to satisfy when she was but to turn seventeen the year 1965 so it was with Benjy in his revolt in his revulsion at six and then at eighteen the grudge against any reconciliation to have us girls present in that tree though we had assumed the roles of a family in it though Aaron was like unto a brother to him (the brother he never had except in that last grip and gasp of first pneumatic breath before birth before freed from the cave of his mother’s womb under the cursing intonations of a voodoo woman) and Aaron not just a cousin not just family and one thing as you know a family always does is forgive its members be it from blood or that same pneumatic breath of life spirit which we remember in all births of tragedies and dreams that give us our superstitions our totems and taboos of kith and kin that veritable metaphysic truth adhered to even in desecration even in abominable acts such as the one which in Aaron’s proclivity brought forth in incestuous son this the horrible spire to the story I tell to you something Benjy could never forgive to be or not to be forgiven for in that ad hominem phrase said at bedtime before such said dreams even the elegiac ones just as it was spoken in our berth that night when Aaron and Benjy descended from our tree house blood brothers allied to any and all feminine remonstrance the house in it of un-dying laurels which our father built David and Bethany also looking on (David traveling from his wandering whereabouts in Austin as a playing musician there to see his daughter off to her first day of school) all this transpired so that after Dulcinea and I in our tattletale cried the regret of our expulsion spoken and sung by us in our little girl voices so sweet then in our infallible purity our feline attractiveness to trees though getting stuck in them we held no grudge but in fact forgave we folded our hands and bowed our heads and spoke the words to forgive our brothers and we prayed yes prayed for so they say a family that prays together stays together…  But no now I tell you be not gullible to these prayers the prayers of children.  You Marcus be not naïve to my words spoken to you now as an old woman with so many dreams gone and not remembered except the fact I know I’ve dreamed them even the elegiac ones showing our inevitable exit from cave dwellings of birth where the play of shadows on the wall are not reality at all for everything I’ve shared with you told you so far are but the shadows of things passing in front of a fire a fire behind you the same fire as the one Benjy started when he burned it down—the tree house—he burned that Texas mountain laurel down we played in as kids and which he expelled us from as yet not women the same fire where he burned the copy of his father’s journal of that period in time 1955 to 1966 the period in time between Aaron and Dulcinea’s first kiss to when he my brother Aaron lay with his cousin and bore a child taken as son not grandson between David and Bethany—Yes Benjy burned that tree down after he hung his blood brother his cousin Aaron from a branch from it an effigy after he shot him in anger this when he learned the truth and not just the play of shadows on a wall when Dulcinea in her own lachrymose tears wept the truth to him and he rose up against his father for telling lies for not telling him the true ideal form from which his nephew/brother Solomon came.  And yes let me tell you this not all for David had a mistress then which in most folks there and about Sabine County should have relegated the doubt that he and Bethany would have another child David being gone most parts of the year anyway as a wandering musician and Bethany already in her early forties so as to the tree that tree of laurel in which we played in as kids at four five and six the same tree Benjy at eighteen would burn down was but the ash and cinders of his own untimely death for you see it would be a tree a mulberry that would see his own hanging end what he crashed into in a fiery automobile accident in fleeing the chase of pursuers an angry lynch mob of white men not trying to justify Aaron’s death (to that effect they could care less) but the fact of his own rape of a woman David’s mistress for you see she was white…

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