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36 The Knoll I noticed that she pulled away from him slightly, holding back the usual chorus of adoring caresses and kisses. She resisted the pressure from his hand on her head that pushed her towards his central root of pleasure—club of power. I heard her whisper: I want to stay above the surface, above hatred and rejection and slide away from adoration and disturb the advance of blind devotion . . . I lie open as a landscape, knobbed and rutted, grassy and cool . . . But he wanes, unhinged from his own physical gravity—here confused, still flailing in another place. I, more voluptuous. You, less realized. You, body to be adored I, the worshiper. I, hanging from a wire above an opening You, below looking up into the opening I, unfolding You, entering. ...

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