House of Earth

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Authors: Woody Guthrie
spoke again. “Itty Tikey notty shamey.”
    â€œNo? Mmm?”
    â€œYou got more water an’ stuff splashin’ aroun’ inside of you than I could suck out in fifty years of hard pullin’! Quit! Shut up. Quit teasin’ me!” He pushed his mouth down harder against her breast and shook his head like a bashful kid. And then he got still and quiet and asked her, “’Smatter? ’Fraid you’ll run dry? You got more joosey magoosey in these tits of yours here than any of our old milk cows.”
    â€œJust hold me. Mmm. That’s it. That’s it. Be my cover. Ohhh. That’s fine. Such a nice warm cover. You’re just about the best blanket I ever had. Hold close, close, close. And for a long, long, long time. I just want to lay here and think. And think. And then think some more.” She opened her legs and spread her knees apart while he moved and laid on her, then she closed her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck. “When you suck my nipples, Tikey, and get them all wet with your spit, and the wind blows on them, they, they, I don’t know, they get real cold and hurt. This is warmer. Gooder this way.”
    â€œWhat you want to lay here and think about, Lady?” Tike moved his hips and penis against the hair between her legs.
    â€œJust everything.” She kissed his ear, then let her head fall back and her eyes move about the whole cowshed. “Just sort of about this whole big world so full of hard times, so full of troubles, so full of fun, with a little red fence around it.”
    â€œI wish you’d think up some kind of a way to get us a piece of nice good farmin’ land, with an adobe house on it, an’ a big adobe fence all around it.”
    â€œThere’s not but one way. And that is to just keep on working and fighting and fighting and working, and then to work and to save and to save and to fight some more,” she said.
    â€œFight who?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t know. I’m not just positive that I know. But I think it’s mainly these landlords,” she told him.
    â€œGuys that keep us in debt up to our ass all our life.”
    Tike moved against her an inch closer, then he moved away from her for a moment to move his right hand down to feel the hair between her legs. He squeezed and pushed and moved his fingers among the hair.
    And she said, “There you go saying bad words again.”
    â€œGoshamighty, woman, you mean to say that ass is a bad word?”
    â€œIt’s sure not a nicey-nice one.”
    â€œYeah. But ever’body’s got an ass. It’s just your rump. Your fanny. What you’re laying on right now.”
    Ella did not laugh, sigh, giggle, nor answer right at that moment. She laid her arms back on the hay above her head and held her eyes shut and her face to one side. She bit her bottom lip soft and easy, then her mouth fell open and her lips were damp and wide apart.
    The picture of her face, her eyelids, hair, forehead, ears, cheeks, chin, was one of almost complete peace and comfort. Tike saw a trace, a tiny trace, but a trace of ache, pain, and misery there as she licked her lips and breathed. A feeling came over him. A feeling that had always come over him when he saw her look this way. It was a feeling of love, yet a feeling of fight. A love that was made out of fight, the fight that he would fight if any living human hurt or harmed oreven spoke low-down or bad words about his Lady. And for a good long time he seemed to get a higher view, somehow, of their life together, their life on this gumbo land in this shack, and even the land and the shack and their cowshed he felt did not really belong to them. No. It all belonged to a man that had never set foot on it. Belonged to somebody that did not give a damn about it. Belonged to someone that didn’t care about the feelings of their cowshed. Somebody somewhere

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