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  • Why I Don't

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    Derric Saville
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    Why I don’t Derric Saville September 24, 2011 Walking past the vacant lot, long since fenced in, on all four sides, by the wooden planks, six feet high, spike cut tops, and one day I see a knot hole, punched out letting daylight in, about waist height, so I peer through the hole, when I notice a diamond, brilliant and dazzling in the sunlight, on a pedestal perhaps within reach, I know how much my lady wants a diamond, and how happy I’d be to deliver it to her, she’d never had a diamond before, so I wriggle my right hand through the hole, up to my wrist, no small fete, my hand can collapse down make itself small, so once my wrist was in I started pushing, arm in, arm out, I could feel the skin stripping off my forearm, but I didn’t care, my lady was finally going to get her diamond, I could feel the blood dripping off my elbow, But I kept going, in and out, in and out, back and forth, I could hear the fence complain, squeaking, groaning, begging me to give up my quest, for the diamond, so I pulled out, took a look at my arm, and wondered how many others, had seen a diamond, nearly had in their grasp, only to have to leave, and return another day, So on the second day past the fence, I spy the knothole, and peer through, sure enough the diamond still rests where it did the day before, but I was prepared, I opened the jar of Vaseline, slathered up to the elbow, knowing the wounds of yesterday had yet to heal, but she deserved that diamond, I deserved that diamond, but now I swear the knothole had decreased in size, gotten somehow smaller, more restrictive, tighter, the Vaseline seemed to be doing the job, but the more I pushed, the drier my arm seemed to get, like the Vaseline was disappearing, being absorbed into the wood, and I still couldn’t quite reach the diamond, I didn’t just deserve the diamond, now I feel I’ve earned it, I’ve matured now in my feelings, I understand its impact on my life how the diamond is larger than me, how it encapsulates my life, and yet to no avail, my arm is still shredded and bleeding all the more, skin peeled up to my elbow, aching, throbbing, yet not even leaning my weight against the fence, can I get close enough to touch it. The third day arrives, and the sun shines brighter, the diamond now calls to me as I approach the fence, jeering me, taunting me, calling me, wanting me, needing me, so I take off my glove, open up new tube of lubricant, the k and y variety, hearing tell of its unmatched ability, my arm now dripping with its vitality, I begin with the hand, and it slides in with ease, I felt the fence stiffen, then let up with its acceptance, we both wanted me to get the diamond, so I eased my arm in gently, but yet it still wanted to peel back my skin, even this lube was no match for the absorptive properties, of the fence, my skin was stretched to it limits, as I worked my arm in, and out, twisting, fingers tickling, straining out for that stoic diamond, and the more I ignored the pain, the closer I got to it, out, back in, leaning into the fence, feeling it give a little, loosen up, start to flex, and relax, and without warning, I found the diamond in my hand, but I didn’t yet want to pull out my arm, I’d begun to relish the pain, and the joy it brought me, and the fence, how I’d been invited in each time, yet the fence had been reticent, once we started, at times forgiving, often helpful, yet unable to control its tremulous aridity, and as I pulled out, extracted my arm, slowly, I realized my hand, feverishly clutching the stone, may not make it through, when the fence unexpectedly, not through force of mine, but perhaps due to the copious amounts of moisture, relaxed its knothole, and allowed me to extricate my hand, crumble crushing the gem, sitting down, leaning hard against the fence, feeling it envelope me, knowing, if I never spied another diamond, we’d still have this experience, to remind us of a greater feeling, a bond, between two, seeking the joy of a common goal, yet

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    Why I don’t Derric Saville September 24, 2011 Walking past the vacant lot, long since fenced in, on all four sides, by the wooden planks, six feet high, spike cut tops, and one day I see a knot hole, punched out letting daylight in, about waist height, so I peer through the hole, when I notice a diamond, brilliant and dazzling in the sunlight, on a pedestal perhaps within reach, I know how much my lady wants a diamond, and how happy I’d be to deliver it to her, she’d never had a diamond before, so I wriggle my right hand through the hole, up to my wrist, no small fete, my hand can collapse down make itself small, so once my wrist was in I started pushing, arm in, arm out, I could feel the skin stripping off my forearm, but I didn’t care, my lady was finally going to get her diamond, I could feel the blood dripping off my elbow, But I kept going, in and out, in and out, back and forth, I could hear the fence complain, squeaking, groaning, begging me to give up my quest, for the diamond, so I pulled out, took a look at my arm, and wondered how many others, had seen a diamond, nearly had in their grasp, only to have to leave, and return another day, So on the second day past the fence, I spy the knothole, and peer through, sure enough the diamond still rests where it did the day before, but I was prepared, I opened the jar of Vaseline, slathered up to the elbow, knowing the wounds of yesterday had yet to heal, but she deserved that diamond, I deserved that diamond, but now I swear the knothole had decreased in size, gotten somehow smaller, more restrictive, tighter, the Vaseline seemed to be doing the job, but the more I pushed, the drier my arm seemed to get, like the Vaseline was disappearing, being absorbed into the wood, and I still couldn’t quite reach the diamond, I didn’t just deserve the diamond, now I feel I’ve earned it, I’ve matured now in my feelings, I understand its impact on my life how the diamond is larger than me, how it encapsulates my life, and yet to no avail, my arm is still shredded and bleeding all the more, skin peeled up to my elbow, aching, throbbing, yet not even leaning my weight against the fence, can I get close enough to touch it. The third day arrives, and the sun shines brighter, the diamond now calls to me as I approach the fence, jeering me, taunting me, calling me, wanting me, needing me, so I take off my glove, open up new tube of lubricant, the k and y variety, hearing tell of its unmatched ability, my arm now dripping with its vitality, I begin with the hand, and it slides in with ease, I felt the fence stiffen, then let up with its acceptance, we both wanted me to get the diamond, so I eased my arm in gently, but yet it still wanted to peel back my skin, even this lube was no match for the absorptive properties, of the fence, my skin was stretched to it limits, as I worked my arm in, and out, twisting, fingers tickling, straining out for that stoic diamond, and the more I ignored the pain, the closer I got to it, out, back in, leaning into the fence, feeling it give a little, loosen up, start to flex, and relax, and without warning, I found the diamond in my hand, but I didn’t yet want to pull out my arm, I’d begun to relish the pain, and the joy it brought me, and the fence, how I’d been invited in each time, yet the fence had been reticent, once we started, at times forgiving, often helpful, yet unable to control its tremulous aridity, and as I pulled out, extracted my arm, slowly, I realized my hand, feverishly clutching the stone, may not make it through, when the fence unexpectedly, not through force of mine, but perhaps due to the copious amounts of moisture, relaxed its knothole, and allowed me to extricate my hand, crumble crushing the gem, sitting down, leaning hard against the fence, feeling it envelope me, knowing, if I never spied another diamond, we’d still have this experience, to remind us of a greater feeling, a bond, between two, seeking the joy of a common goal, yet

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    15 views4 pages

    Why I Don't

    Uploaded by

    Derric Saville
    Why I don’t Derric Saville September 24, 2011 Walking past the vacant lot, long since fenced in, on all four sides, by the wooden planks, six feet high, spike cut tops, and one day I see a knot hole, punched out letting daylight in, about waist height, so I peer through the hole, when I notice a diamond, brilliant and dazzling in the sunlight, on a pedestal perhaps within reach, I know how much my lady wants a diamond, and how happy I’d be to deliver it to her, she’d never had a diamond before, so I wriggle my right hand through the hole, up to my wrist, no small fete, my hand can collapse down make itself small, so once my wrist was in I started pushing, arm in, arm out, I could feel the skin stripping off my forearm, but I didn’t care, my lady was finally going to get her diamond, I could feel the blood dripping off my elbow, But I kept going, in and out, in and out, back and forth, I could hear the fence complain, squeaking, groaning, begging me to give up my quest, for the diamond, so I pulled out, took a look at my arm, and wondered how many others, had seen a diamond, nearly had in their grasp, only to have to leave, and return another day, So on the second day past the fence, I spy the knothole, and peer through, sure enough the diamond still rests where it did the day before, but I was prepared, I opened the jar of Vaseline, slathered up to the elbow, knowing the wounds of yesterday had yet to heal, but she deserved that diamond, I deserved that diamond, but now I swear the knothole had decreased in size, gotten somehow smaller, more restrictive, tighter, the Vaseline seemed to be doing the job, but the more I pushed, the drier my arm seemed to get, like the Vaseline was disappearing, being absorbed into the wood, and I still couldn’t quite reach the diamond, I didn’t just deserve the diamond, now I feel I’ve earned it, I’ve matured now in my feelings, I understand its impact on my life how the diamond is larger than me, how it encapsulates my life, and yet to no avail, my arm is still shredded and bleeding all the more, skin peeled up to my elbow, aching, throbbing, yet not even leaning my weight against the fence, can I get close enough to touch it. The third day arrives, and the sun shines brighter, the diamond now calls to me as I approach the fence, jeering me, taunting me, calling me, wanting me, needing me, so I take off my glove, open up new tube of lubricant, the k and y variety, hearing tell of its unmatched ability, my arm now dripping with its vitality, I begin with the hand, and it slides in with ease, I felt the fence stiffen, then let up with its acceptance, we both wanted me to get the diamond, so I eased my arm in gently, but yet it still wanted to peel back my skin, even this lube was no match for the absorptive properties, of the fence, my skin was stretched to it limits, as I worked my arm in, and out, twisting, fingers tickling, straining out for that stoic diamond, and the more I ignored the pain, the closer I got to it, out, back in, leaning into the fence, feeling it give a little, loosen up, start to flex, and relax, and without warning, I found the diamond in my hand, but I didn’t yet want to pull out my arm, I’d begun to relish the pain, and the joy it brought me, and the fence, how I’d been invited in each time, yet the fence had been reticent, once we started, at times forgiving, often helpful, yet unable to control its tremulous aridity, and as I pulled out, extracted my arm, slowly, I realized my hand, feverishly clutching the stone, may not make it through, when the fence unexpectedly, not through force of mine, but perhaps due to the copious amounts of moisture, relaxed its knothole, and allowed me to extricate my hand, crumble crushing the gem, sitting down, leaning hard against the fence, feeling it envelope me, knowing, if I never spied another diamond, we’d still have this experience, to remind us of a greater feeling, a bond, between two, seeking the joy of a common goal, yet

    Copyright:

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    Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    Why I dont Derric Saville September 24, 2011 Walking past the vacant lot, long since fenced

    in, on all four sides, by the wooden planks, six feet high, spike cut tops, and one day I see a knot hole, punched out letting daylight in, about waist height, so I peer through the hole, when I notice a diamond, brilliant and dazzling in the sunlight, on a pedestal perhaps within reach, I know how much my lady wants a diamond, and how happy Id be to deliver it to her, shed never had a diamond before, so I wriggle my right hand through the hole, up to my wrist, no small fete, my hand can collapse down make itself small, so once my wrist was in I started pushing, arm in, arm out, I could feel the skin stripping off my forearm, but I didnt care, my lady was finally going to get her diamond, I could feel the blood dripping off my elbow, But I kept going, in and out, in and out, back and forth, I could hear the fence complain, squeaking, groaning, begging me to give up my quest, for the diamond, so I pulled out, took a look at my arm, and wondered how many others, had seen a diamond, nearly had in their grasp, only to have to leave, and return another day, So on the second day past the fence,

    I spy the knothole, and peer through, sure enough the diamond still rests where it did the day before, but I was prepared, I opened the jar of Vaseline, slathered up to the elbow, knowing the wounds of yesterday had yet to heal, but she deserved that diamond, I deserved that diamond, but now I swear the knothole had decreased in size, gotten somehow smaller, more restrictive, tighter, the Vaseline seemed to be doing the job, but the more I pushed, the drier my arm seemed to get, like the Vaseline was disappearing, being absorbed into the wood, and I still couldnt quite reach the diamond, I didnt just deserve the diamond, now I feel Ive earned it, Ive matured now in my feelings, I understand its impact on my life how the diamond is larger than me, how it encapsulates my life, and yet to no avail, my arm is still shredded and bleeding all the more, skin peeled up to my elbow, aching, throbbing, yet not even leaning my weight against the fence, can I get close enough to touch it. The third day arrives, and the sun shines brighter, the diamond now calls to me as I approach the fence, jeering me, taunting me, calling me, wanting me, needing me, so I take off my glove, open up new tube of lubricant, the k and y variety, hearing tell of its unmatched ability, my arm now dripping with its vitality, I begin with the hand, and it slides in with ease, I felt the fence stiffen, then let up with its acceptance,

    we both wanted me to get the diamond, so I eased my arm in gently, but yet it still wanted to peel back my skin, even this lube was no match for the absorptive properties, of the fence, my skin was stretched to it limits, as I worked my arm in, and out, twisting, fingers tickling, straining out for that stoic diamond, and the more I ignored the pain, the closer I got to it, out, back in, leaning into the fence, feeling it give a little, loosen up, start to flex, and relax, and without warning, I found the diamond in my hand, but I didnt yet want to pull out my arm, Id begun to relish the pain, and the joy it brought me, and the fence, how Id been invited in each time, yet the fence had been reticent, once we started, at times forgiving, often helpful, yet unable to control its tremulous aridity, and as I pulled out, extracted my arm, slowly, I realized my hand, feverishly clutching the stone, may not make it through, when the fence unexpectedly, not through force of mine, but perhaps due to the copious amounts of moisture, relaxed its knothole, and allowed me to extricate my hand, crumble crushing the gem, sitting down, leaning hard against the fence, feeling it envelope me, knowing, if I never spied another diamond, wed still have this experience,

    to remind us of a greater feeling, a bond, between two, seeking the joy of a common goal, yet understanding, the pain of skin, stretched and split, scraped off to the elbow, is why I dont have any children.

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