Sunday, April 12, 2009

Shung and Me

Shung's bandolier hung nervously across his chest. Shung Havrefred who was bandit, holy man and snake oil. Ode songs he swung through the sands in bags full of flowers and hair. Toothpicked grin, Shung was a happy hand at work. Hollowed a tree for a boat and scraped bark for tea. Shung was no fear. His gun stayed saddled. He had only to walk wide, leg to leg, feet pointed out, on his way through the woods and the desert and the mountains, and he brought me along.

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