Being out of luuv

Oh, and another thing, he was out of luuv.
This is his description of falling out of love: Some time between that magic moment when you first saw her—and tonight, maybe yesterday... Whenever that butterfly undusted its wings.
That is how fragile, how delicate a thing. A butterfly undusted its wings.

Z's of the world have so little

Poor, sad Z.
Some women had so little. So little, did Z's of this world have.
Lived endlessly complicated lives, of course.
The style of a little girl's shoes meant the world, how a dress fit over a navel too. How a dress hung over a navel, the way a curtain dropped, was everything. Meant the world. So very little, they had.
The shape of a shadow cast by a table leg on a carpet at twilight was important for the Z's of the world. If it wasn't right for a Z, the table went into the attic. The shape of a shadow by twilight was that important.
He recalled his own Z... Recalled her on the carpet on her elbows and knees, looking at the shadow, deciding the fate of an antique table. And how he'd had the urge to jump her right then, that time long ago, drop her panties in one, smooth flash and grab.
But he hadn't. No, he had not. Would it all have been different, say he had?

Finding her clitoris

When as a young man, destined for great loverdom, he first came across a clitoris—or rather, didn't—he said it was like parting a curtain to seek some wily genie.
And he soon found himself asking himself whether there was such a thing as Triple Clitoris syndrome?
Or did this 'genie' wander? Today here, gone tomorrow.
He didn't know. Thing disappeared, moved. You half saw it, you didn't. You felt it, you didn't.
Instinctively he knew this needed study—pretty intense study, at that.
'Now where to?' he'd ask.
'A little to the left...,' she'd day. And he'd try.
'Higher.' Higher? Earlier it had been lower. Anyway, remained unseen, unfelt.
'Where to now?' he'd persist.
He said in a way this was not very different from watching his dad navigate a car through unfamiliar terrain with his mom reading the map and giving directions. It had that same feeling, but you couldn't say anything.
Nonetheless study he would, master this he had to.
'You have the patience of a ghost,' one more skilled teacher/partner said mysteriously.
Apparently he was still learning.