The wedding photo
Our wedding photo seemed perfectly natural. I lay there on a white bird with a cherub playing a violin and you lay on top of me. I had a convenient fan in case things got too warm. Another cherub in a tree was hanging upside down with the candelabraperfectly balanced like prongs on a pitchfork.
There were farm animals and you wore a purple suit and I thought as many do what a wonderful fantasy. It was almost as if we were taking a small rest leaning against the curved plump soft white bird. I could feel her heart fluttering in her bird chest. Soon my heart was mimicking her rhythm. It never occurred to me that we were actually going to have a marriage after we had taken the photo. I couldn’t think that far ahead. I preferred to live in a soft fantasy where the idea of cooking meals and having children never came up. I didn’t really like the feel of your right hand on my hip but the photographer had suggested that it be there. A man had never touched me before so it wasn’t unusual to have that feeling. I wanted to keep the cow but I realize that would be difficult in a third-floor apartment. You said to me that one day we would have a castle. The only good thing about a castle to me would’ve been the moat. I remember distinctly that dissembling all the props took a long time and you refused to get out of that purple suit. I had a nice drink of some decent red wine and took a walk forgetting to come back.
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