November 26, 2006

I went over to Keren’s house on a Sunday afternoon for coffee and rhubarb cookies.

She smiled at me when I walked in, snake tongue flickering in her hair, and my heart froze with a mixture of fear and admiration. I was breathless and could not speak. I slowly reached out to touch the snake and he grabbed my hand warmly when invited, strong, sinewy muscles wrapped around my fingers. It was the strangest handshake I’ve ever felt.

“I suddenly want a snake too,” I finally said after the long, awed silence. “For my hair.”