The children who ended up born on Thursday all have too many eyes, says my father. I listened to him, but I really wanted to rest and weep for the rest of the afternoon. All the stores had closed and water started to boil again. We waited until it was done, and then rose from the ground. We unburied ourselves, my father and me. My hat had grown since the last time we rode to town. Town had changed, too. No longer was there a palmer to greet us, nor were there dogs hung on stilts.

I was afraid of the Vagrants.

The Vagrants rolled in on their bellies and struck the soil with their teeth. The held the ground up for us, churned it between their fingers and let slugs drip down from the tips. They bared their teeth at my horse, and caused him to hop and buck. I held tight and knew that they wouldn't come any closer. With their knives and hatchets they screamed, yelped and hollered at us. My father turned back from his horse and looked at me in my eyes, and nodded firm. We took off through the square and caused a shuffle from the men on wheels. They dipped their heads and folded their hands.

On Saturday, I went swimming in the Lake with Meredith. We stared into the sky and wathced the spears plummet toward us. My mother said to never look at the sky during the day, but the water skewed it. Under the Lake, I saw Meredith's nipple and thought of my oven, and about fucking. We wore out until we fell asleep in the Lake, and then the spears come rushing. The y were the size of Trees and sharp like dog teeth. I laughed, immersed and alone, Meredith treading fiercely.