“Well we relate in a way that is primal. It was like this from the beginning, P and we eat in a way that is primal too. It’s like we’ve been on a hunt and killed a wildebeest or something and now the whole pack is going to eat.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Yeah, we eat just like that. Remember when were in Piketon? We went to that restaurant and we ate the hell out of that food. We ate. The waiter came those people were scared of us, P.”

I laughed.

“They were. We scared the waiter. Stay away from those two. That waiter drew his hand back. He was afraid we’d eat it, I guess.”

I snorted.

“Well, he did. He did draw his hand back. Don’t you get in the way of the primal dogs eating their kill or you’re going to get eaten too. I don’t know what it is, P. But I’m telling you I have never eaten like the way we do with anyone but you in my life. We’re like a pack of dogs and the sex is the same thing. I don’t know what else to say. I just know if you get between us when we’re together all hell breaks loose. We have some sort of primal connection and we really are just like a pack of dogs.”

I couldn’t argue and have no idea what to attribute this too. Something more than 2 grand trines in earth. When we were kids he perceived he same thing. I was oblivious, but he got me this flight jacket that matched his and said we were our own gang. And we’d ride around on the one little motorcycle… it was just a little red 400 Kawasaki he had bored out but when we went in that biker bar to challenge the whole place, no one messed with us. It’s uncanny, really. We were skinny little, happy teenagers with grins. Freaks of nature, I suppose.

Rancho Diablo and the Biker Bar - Cardinal Grand Cross in Synastry and The Fortress Effect