A Girl to Heal a Fissured Heart

“You put a hole in my heart like the grand canyon. . .. ,” Audie wrote. He was sick and tired of women. And Deli was the latest of the worst. All about her. Like saving it for a rainy day was life. Hell, life was gather roses while they bloom. Not this faux virgin BS.

“I’ll never trust another girl as long as I live because of you being so fickle and rainy day life style are just not my type . . . ”

Some consideration for needs unmet was all. A man can’t live with it like a goddamned post all the time and no relief. Was it too much to ask. It’s nature. Dogs, cats, horses, bulls. How was a man different. A man was a man.

“. . . you female got no consideration for real needs and how life works it aint all roses and weaving dandelions and four leaf clovers in the park. . . ”

Break off in a kiss and say she needed to find a clover. Then she’s hands and knees through the grass, her rump waddling behind her like it was nothing in the world, and then tell him not her type. Which was malarkey, he was no different than any other natural man.

“. . . there ain’t no for leaf clovers just clover with three is the natural way of things like men and real women not a hole in my heart like the grand canyon.

Coda: Sometime after Audie pushed send on that email, he found himself in the Last Lost Dollar Bar drowning the Grand Canyon with whiskey neat and beer. And the lonesome young woman who sat down on the stool next to him was a little large, heavy rumped—if the truth be told. Not really Audie’s idea of his type. But he forgot all about Grand Canyon holes in the heart.

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