_The berimbau speaks, the berimbau sings. HIM and ME are having yet another Martian conversation. You can hear each cycle of each vibration of the hot glowing wire, and the counter-vibrations of the warm spaces in between._ _HIM strikes a wooden match on his zipper. It flares into life. He lights his smoke. ME watches with appreciative hunger. The whole scene takes less than a century, would probably fit within the warm hollow downhill of an old barn on a chilly spring night. You can go down in the hollow to feel a bit warmer. Talk to the creek. But slowly, and thank god for the luxury, slowly._ # ME: Do you mind if I...? _Several rabbits, a coyote with a song in her throat, a family of raccoons on vacation, a litter of bugs and a star, all do not mind at all._