From 'the Green Flash' Xi - Poem by Morgan Michaels
He was maybe the nicest man in the world and a gentleman who never 'sailed against the wind', in his own words. He was very smart, coincidentally. Or perhaps these qualities are found together, like oil and shale- who knows? But he understood Billy and didn't begrudge his pettish demands. He stopped laughing.
'What should I be reading', he asked, suddenly serious.
'I don't know. Something that matters. Something universal. Something with thought, texture. Jane Austin'?
Billy hadn't changed, decided Tom.
'Would you like a beer', he asked, generalizing the question and looking at Mat.
'Oh, no', snapped Mat. It was the early, needed reply to any such pitch. Long ago, Mat had been Baptist. The first offer refused, he usually eased into a 'yes' with the second. But the prospect of drunken godlessness and its downward spiral was still active.
There followed a pause during which he remembered he was no longer Baptist, but Episcopalian.
'On second thought, all right'.
Billy accepted with more gusto and followed his host indoors where Tom opened a small refrigerator, bristling with Heinekens. Billy, who appreciated abundance, gasped.
'My God, Tom, are you expecting a drought'?
Tom's blue eyes twinkled and he plucked at his Izod. Tom was wash and wear.
'You never know. We're in the tropics'.
Then, without the least hesitation, he admitted...
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