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Show -281 What can you do with a woman like that? She was having the time of her life and there was no stopping her. The original question was far behind her; she breathed through her mouth, her eyes were hot, her face excited-it was for her a sexual moment. What made me, in my desire to find affection in this world, turn to such fierce women? "Radio women," old Champion Jack Dupree, an expert if there ever was one, called them in his songs. "Airplane women. High-powered women.." High-strung bitches. I watched Morgan draw in her breath and raise her chin. "I'm finished with you, you bastard," she said. . Oh yes, a high-strung bitch. Vicious when spooked and spooky as they come. One word is all it takes sometimes. Though in this case I had to admit I was in the wrong. I went back to the house. The cigar-store Indian at the head of the stairs, the same one Jacob had embraced in his fall so many years ago, stared at me solemnly; the crack across his face gave him a dissipated devilish look. I lay on our bed and let my eyes rest on the room's peculiar corners, wondering if I would ever grow up. Growing up is a simple phrase to describe a complicated process, but I was tired of complications. Life ought to be simpler. As Adam once said, we ought to live like bears, and not think about it so much. I was sick to death of psychology and sociology and anthropology, most of all sick of the |