222
PARTISAN REVIEW
Kirksvdle, Missoun'
(Approximately)
January
23, 1951
My BIG Dear Turnip, My SAD Muscular Paratrooper,
My Lonely Prune , Dear
r" ,
I rereadyourlast letter at least two hundredtz'mes since it came and it is
with tears in my eyes, dearly adored carrot, that I'm wn'ting you today ,
for me too I feel inside ofme, in my most secret regions, as you say so
well my sugared one, in my most pn'vate parts, that immense void
which you ALONE can ji/I so well! Yesterday , me too , nude and
tremblinJ; under my soft warm pink blankets, I feltihose hUJ;e needles
and knives of your absence (Oh delicious heavy artdlery of yoursn
softly penetrate my inner landscape devastated by the sadness and
boredom of civdian Izle in Missoun' where nothing-NOTHING (I
swear to you) ever happens, ever comes to fulfi/I me, to replenish me,
to sweeten me with the sugars of love ,
My legs timidly spread apart, my eyes tightly closed, my breasts raised
shyly and lovingly towards you, out there in the direction of North
Carolina in apleading manner, I suddenly imaginedyou had returned
to lie next to me in my empty couch. Your solid and vigorous hands
were voyaging all over my body, circulating back and forth over my
palpitating flesh, rediscoven'ng
,
all at once, the boundan'es of your
property which, I swear to you on my beloved mother's chenshed soul,
has not been touched by anyone else but you- brave paratrooper–
since you departed so heroically more than six months ago. As my
hands, shiven'ng with desire, followed the traces of yours along the
contours of my body (I am using your lovely words), a stn'ct, severe
monotonous voice, deep down inszde of me, kept whispen'ng that I
should not do those unspeakable gestures, not let myself be tempted
by those movements ofweakness anddespair, that I should not harvest
in the darkness ofmy solitude, especially without the proper tools, the
golden wheat that belongs to you. Thzs deep voice, no doubt the voice
ofreason , ofreligion, ofmorality, ofLaw
&
Order, grew louder and
louder as I pursued (in my mind only) the image (that magnificent
image) ofyour giant fruit , your sweet banana, enormous, nervous and
probing, as it wnggled deep inside ofme in search oflove, But, it zs
