We met, again, for the first time, in a gift shop.
She was gliding through the aisles like a robin searching for just the right twig.
โDo I know you?โ she asked.
Long seconds passed, painfully. Nothing? I couldnโt come up with even one syllable?
โSorry, I guessโฆโ she was about to fly away when I grabbed her by the wing. Softly.
โWe met once, briefly, at that picnic at the houseโฆโ
โOn the lake in Connecticut, of course! I donโt think we spoke though. You were sort of being the silent cowboy loner type. I guess like you are now. I wanted to speak to you then but I guess it wasnโt the time. Iโm still not sure that it is now.โ
โOh, I think it could be,โ I said, โcelestial lovers; intertwined for art eternity in shimmering gold.โ
โWhat? Oh, wait, yes of course, the Kiss by Klimt hanging in the lake house living room.โ
โGood memory,โ I said.
โI revel more in the garment than the people,โ she said, โthat magic robe cloak-bubble of immortality that will never age, wrinkle, get allergies, quarrel over money, or forget to eat low-carb as long as that gorgeous sheathโฆโ
โI know what you mean,โ I interrupted, but not really, for she had paused long enough.
โYou know that I mean I want to wear Klimtโs robe? All the time, to protect me from life?โ
โYes, because the realization struck me recently that the reason for my gambling addiction was that I had somehow gotten the idea early on in my teens that there really was a way to beat the system.โ
โYouโre a gambling addict?โ
โNot anymore, well, recovering, you know.โ
โYes, I know, all too well, but do go on about your realization.โ
โLife was the system I thought I could beat. Just another way of saying be protected from all that is awful, like the robe. But nothing โoutsideโ can โbeatโ it.โ
โSo, what? Be the robe?โ
โYes!โ
โSo, whoโs kissing who though?โ
โThe lovers in the robe are not there beneath the robe- Klimt knew what he was doing- we know what he was doing we just canโt explain it- other than to say- we like the Kiss by Klimt- who doesnโt? Look for the robe without the robe.โ
โYouโre not making any sense,โ she said.
โIโm creating a new style of fiction writing. Something that will revolutionize literature as we know it. Joycean really, with a twist of Gravityโs Rainbow and shot of Hunter Thompson.โ
โWell now youโre just dropping writersโ names. And here I thought we might have a future as art historians. But if we move in together and buy a Klimt you might lose it gambling,โ she said, playing along nicely now.
โI would never gamble with the robe, as long as you were in it with me.โ
โWell, that deserves the gift of a kiss.โ
And she did.
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