People In Their Right Minds Never Take

When I Pointed To Him His Palms Slipped Slightly, Leaving Greasy Sweat Streaks On The Wall, And He Hooked His Thumbs In His Belt. A Strange Spasm Shook Him, As If He Heard Fingernails Scrape Slate, But As I Gazed At Him In Wonder The Tension Slowly Drained From His Face. His Lips Parted Into A Timid Smile, And Our Neighbor’s Image Blurred With My Sudden Tears. “hey, Boo,” I Said. “mr. Arthur, Honey,” Said Atticus, Gently Correcting Me. “jean Louise, This Is Mr. Arthur Radley. I Believe He Already Knows You.

Boo Was Our Neighbor. He Gave Us Two Soap Dolls, A Broken Watch And Chain, A Pair Of Good-luck Pennies, And Our Lives.

When A Man Spends His Relief Checks On Green Whiskey His Children Have A Way Of Crying From Hunger Pains.

Dill Was Off Again. Beautiful Things Floated Around In His Dreamy Head. He Could Read Two Books To My One, But He Preferred The Magic Of His Own Inventions. He Could Add And Subtract Faster Than Lightning, But He Preferred His Own Twilight World, A World Where Babies Slept, Waiting To Be Gathered Like Morning Lilies.

Weeping For Anna Karenina And Being Terrified By Hannibal Lecter, Entering The Heart Of Darkness With Mistah Kurtz, Having Holden Caulfield Ring You Up - Some Things Should Happen On Soft Pages, Not Cold Metal.