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smell of cooking blood. The day had passed on with the invisible minds of nonsense laughing at each other between the guzzling of beers. One by one we began to pick the stakes off the fire and rip them apart with our teeth. The juce dripped down the sides of our mouths and out lips licked the sent, as the stars began to show. Girls in black began to pass back and forth, and become one with their mystery in ours eyes. Lullabys were heard between laughter walking over distant hills. The breeze was warm, but the heat was gone and the grass moved in a steady sound beneath us. Through the night silver buckles would shine on girls waists, and young men would walk around looking. The young men heads would be bent, except when they were with song or in conversation. Desire was in the flashing eyes of a giggle, and once a young man had set out to find his prey, the laughter and the eyes would begin to fall slowly. There were kisses on the breath of girls sighs, that floated past my brow. There was the sound of humming beneath their black and yellow dress of the bee. Sting me, and I will let my breathing follow you on the passageways of your moon without color smile. Everyone went into the part of their own part, and stared directly beneath their own shadows. The stakes had gone to only a special few, and envy was surely passing in the guts of every man left without. Cheer cheer, for old Notre Dame, Wake up the echo's cheering her name. Kill that song, Murphy said. Kill you Murphy, Beaver said. Listen Beaver, said Murphy. I saw one of your school mates touch your sweetheart. She is your sweetheart, isn't she? When? A little while ago, on the other side of the parvillion.