who drove the gray van. "Did I lock the door?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. There's nothing to take anyway."

But there was, there were his clothes, his tools, a stash of weed, and his work papers. His life summed up by a few measly possessions plus five photos of Maria, which he'd probably throw out if he didn't hear from her. She was the kind of woman who grew tired too fast of a man being a man. She had a big ass and saggy tits, but she could fuck like nobody's business. He missed that, what man wouldn't? She'd been holding out on him for a month before she kicked him to the streets - right after payday of course. Still he closed his eyes and envisioned her coffee brown areolas. It made him hard.

Deer crossed the path ahead of him and brought him back to the moment. A small buck stopped to look around. It had a moist black nose, twitching ear and a curiosity for humans. You could get lost in those sad eyes. It was a good omen he thought and he hadn't had many of those. He strayed off the trail in the direction of more deer. It looked as though the animals were not the only ones wearing down the underbrush. The trees stretched overhead as giant canopies, tall and phallic with branches like random brush strokes.

The river ran faster. He left its banks and moved in the direction of a clearing. The sound of the forest couldn't be heard above his own inner chatter. The silence sent panic into his chest. Leaves fluttered on the ground across gray sand that pealed away from the earth in spots like skin. They were like scabs that the wind picked to reveal the flesh of nature. A fallen tree sat rotting, part of its trunk rooted in the ground by erosion. The smell was damp. Silvio sat on it feeling a little dizzy or puke-ish, he wasn't sure. He waited for the nausea to subside. When it did, the sounds came poring in. The whispers were faint on the wind but he could hear them along with the cautious steps of animals and men. The fleeting feet of squirrels unwilling to accommodate the guys that went there to frolic in the shadows sounded in protest.

Things felt vulnerable and exposed in that spot, he was like a billboard for prying eyes. He stood up to get away from ants that had gathered to investigate the contents of his shoes, to read the neon sign that he seemed to be with their tiny eyes. It would have been better to call himself invisible. It was the kind of place that an internal compass or an instinct guided by whispers drew men together. He'd heard them. The sun was casting its golden shadow across the sky and the first flicker of park lights had started along the trail. The forest was disturbed by the sound of Silvio opening a beer. For a moment the earth stood still.

For the park he had a special shirt with the sleeves cut, and a pair of jeans that had been saved for the weekend. The stitching on the back pockets were a flashback to another decade. The fit drew the eyes downward to his ass and crotch. They made his cock look larger than life and he liked that idea.

Laughter erupted from the thick of the woods just over a slight rise above