impending questions on H

The nose touched him gingerly at first and then muckled on with a secret clasp. Hardly a furtive exchange, the bite was steady and prolonged, and yet somehow, also quite comfortable, like a lubricated latex tube with a ridge of pressure asserting itself along the bone, pulling the skin off with the precise fingering and familiarity of a medical professional.

Whereto next? I asked. Seeing the circle to the right and mid-pyramidal formation in the center, and to the left, just this strange arcing curl, I couldn't resist the urge to visit memories from when I was in my 20's -- when I used to hallucinate these same shapes, connecting sturgeon to buttes to triangles to abstract expressionism. Maybe it was all just a whim, or trying too hard with the late-night headphones strapped on, transmitting messages-in-bottles before there was all this immediate access that we enjoy today. All the same, there has to be mystery involved, as then, as it is today, otherwise we're just staring at these screens with little active imagination. 

Glib jibes and mastiff tongues, hoarding the land bridge meant gentle "purph" sounds in the morning. Collectively bound, these could be shipped off in clusters resembling early settlers' sod houses; the tract house of yesteryear ad agency tele prompt. None now, all the rivers have dried to dusk, blowing husks and tomes into acid baths of sunshine and early-proto beginnings; imaginary sapien meets his honey, adopts a leathery skin from what was once a fish tale. 

You gotta write though, Hus. Letters to wives, chances to adapt versus claim or seize or embolden oneself to or simply await a genetic transfer. All those records, shit, what a pile of fuckin LPs, sitting there, and not an easy thing to import, no way, not with those leggings. A veritable mesa, a tower, conical at the top, a noisy nose, rubber-tipped, pleasurable sure, but so damn big, and this media, they don't geddit. Well, whatever. More letters, man. Screw the DNA. 

SO, the arm went, then the shoulder, right side, neck included, other shoulder, left side, upper torso, abdomen, groin, crotch, thigh, both thighs, knees, shins, calves, heels, toes, and then, with a crunch, Huso left your head intact, forgivably face-down in the mudflat so that you wouldn't have to witness the last of your corporeal form go gulping down the esophagus or whatever it is that fish have that leads from maw to tummy. Sitting there for one last brief exhale, the fuzz grew over like an array of dancing AM station beacons and pops, except, instead of appearing as a predictable gray, it was a full technicolor blitz. Huso may have eaten your body, but damn, what a show he gave you when he freed your head.