she will probably be missed because she was fearless at absorbing whatever the culture presented her

fig.80) farm squabble

There were so many lovers, more than any of us could have guessed. As she liked to say, "I've traveled everywhere and always brought the soup." Hot with idle beans and through countless visits, I did indeed see this. I also saw her swap shoes in the lane with the traffic all around her snarling, pretending to be a great bear.

“This barn is like a wood house that's very full of naked animals,” this is written on some pale telephone stationary. The blue ink is thin and the words have blown up on the page. She was fond of reminding me that her lovers could be numbered in traffic lights. Singing Iron Man in the shower, replacing all of its lyrics, "I like traffic lights, pretty little itty-bitty traffic lights, red ones green ones too, I like traffic lights yes, I do!"

The effect of her was always something like a target being spun out in front of some wavy plywood while paint is pooling around fresh young toes. She danced and threw apples at the windows of many of the women she loved. Always racing towards befuddlement and the dumb wooden bins behind the barrels of salt with their magic, she tried and she tried until her dice finally failed her.

I'll always miss the way that fur feels when it's wet, "Goodbye, fairlorn."