On the last day of school, the children brought gifts for the teacher.
The florist's son brought the teacher a bouquet. The candy-store owner's daughter handed the teacher a pretty box of candy.
Then the liquor-store owner's son brought up a big, heavy box. The teacher lifted it up and noticed it was leaking a little bit. She touched a drop of the liquid withy her finger and tasted it.
"It is wine?" she guessed.
"No," the boy replied.
She tasted another drop and asked, "Champagne?"
"No," said the little boy.
"I give up," she said. "What is it?"
"A puppy!"
And I to my motorcycle parked like the soul of the junkyard. Restored, a bicycle fleshed with power, and tore off. Up Highway 106 continually drunk on the wind in my mouth. Wringing the handlebar for speed, wild to be wreckage forever.
- James Dickey, Cherrylog Road.
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