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Show Chick Sales 19 mother has said many times~"The eyes are the windows of the soul." The eyes s t i l l seem alive and he wants to look more closely. Maybe he can see the soul that his mother believes a part of all living things. He releases his hold on his father and walks to the head and row of hooks. The skull hangs just above the top of Herman's eyebrows. He l i f ts his chin, his head, lastly his eyes until they connect with the two fixed orbs, the only remainder of this morning's v i r i l e animal. He looks into the eyes that are losing sharp definition at the edges of the pupils. They are merging, black with white, into a sluggish mixture of themselves. "His eyes are like mine, Papa," he says, not turning from the skull. "The bull is like me-deep-water eyes." Alf half-smiles at his son who has stopped acting afraid in front of Ben. "Yes, Herman, El Toro. Brave, fierce, courageous." Herman doesn't hear his father. "I will be your friend," he is whispering to the eyes as i f the bull were all there to hear and respond. " I have long green grass by my pond. You don't have to go away." Ben leans on the post with the hooks. "You want to see what eyes really are?" he asks as he pierces the edge of one of the shining half rounds with the t ip of his knife. The liquid trickles out to a pool on the hard floor. |