Who Could Shake The Foundation Of Heaven by Christopher McDonald                 “In this last of meeting places                 We grope together                 And avoid speech                 Gathered on this beach of the tumid river”                                                 —T.S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men” Since the day you bought that dress for her you’ve wanted to talk to her — just to say “hi” — but you know you can’t. You want to take her, shake some sense into her then hold her close. You long to feel her breath on your cheek, to hold her hand, to feel love’s touch and to look into those fabulous brown eyes and remember what it was like to see love . . . like that night on the back deck of the country club. But all you can remember is that day in her office . . . when it all ended over a disagreement about a Gucci cocktail dress. “I don’t want it.” “What do you mean, you don’t want it?” “I don’t want it, please take it away.” “I bought it for you, so please keep it, okay? I’ll see you later.” When you leave, you go to the lounge to get a Diet Mountain Dew and when you return to your office, you find the bag containing the dress that you wished you could have seen her wearing and a note that says, “I don’t think we should talk anymore, I’m sorry for what I started.” Confused, you ask yourself, “What she started?” YOU pursued her. If anyone started anything, it was you. Why did you go crazy over this particular girl? When this began, you knew you were playing with fire, and more than likely you would wind up charred. You threw caution into the wind and fell into the abyss. Now after the dress fiasco, you feel like a recovering addict. You want to get that monkey off your back. But its not a bag of Bolivian marching dust that has clouded your judgment, it’s a 112 pound goddess. Would things have gone better if she had rejected your advances? You think back to another redhead, who turned your world upside down. You were so crazy about this woman; on the plane back from San Diego, you nearly suffered an anxiety attack. Now all you have is a $1500 cocktail dress. Although you continue to hope that she will come to her senses, after a month, you realize it’s a lost cause and begin to search for your receipt. However, you breathe a sigh of relief, happy in the fact you didn’t buy the pearls to match. Christopher McDonald is a graduate creative writing student from Rockingham, NC. About “Who Could Shake The Foundation Of Heaven,” he says, “Throughout this semester, I have utilized various writing styles that I have never thought I could pull off. However, I really enjoyed the middle style (which this piece is) and found my voice by utilizing the second person point of view.” Copyright © 2005 by Christopher McDonald. Photo by Leanne E. Smith.