Tag Archives: alcir

by

… a little time out …

As I return to 2005, when I am leaving the big island after
a three month stay, I find myself suspended between
two distinct realities….. two places that I have left and
returned to many times in my life.

One offers rich redwood forests, dramatic crashing surf,
warm and loving community of musicians and artists, and
a place where my kids went to school.
There is a lot of History, and an embracement of Love.
This is the green place, the Heart Chakra place, where
intuition and feelings take the lead.

The other is a dream world, a place where one’s body relaxes,
immediately knowing that it is the Eden where warmth and
sustenance pours from the skies, and the cleansing salty
oceans and fresh tradewinds are healing to all parts of ones
body, soul and psyche.
A place where one can easily create whatever scenario one
chooses, for this is the Root Chakra of the planet, the Red ray
source, where healing and creation begins.

Both are equally home to me.
And in Both places…Nature dominates.
Which has always Been and will always Be…
My Drothers…..

So now….or rather in my story of 2005,
I leave the islands
and return to the womb of friends and family,
of towering trees accompanied by ravens,
my favorite birds,
and a town on the scale that I
can relate to, understand, and feel Held by.

Oddly enough, just as I write to this return,
I myself,
this myself Here and Now,
Prepare for the same return, a coming home,
a welcoming with friends and places that sink deeply
into my heart and my memories.
I move back to my
Northern California Coastal town to stay.

Alcir has been a large part of this theme, this train of
thought, this story that is about love and life and loss….

So in the return, as in each return, Alcir comes up,
for it was here we met, here he came back again and again,
and here that the places we spent time at,
the places I held him in my mind before I
returned for the last time to Brasil, these places
will once again assault my memories.
He was here too….

But this time is different….
I am not waiting for him to decide what
he wants and when.
This time I am not trying to figure out the feelings,
the longings, the confusions that he created with
his own confusions.
I do not wait…. for anything.
And
I will not be waiting for anyone….
….except myself.

And do you know how delicious that is?
To be at Peace…..
I am on my path,
the one I clear,
the one I choose,
and the one that takes me
to complete and joyful Peace.

And so the story continues, in 2005,
and my return to the NorCal Coast and
my little town of Point Arena.

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by

… fairwell my island …

As I leave my island,  all the elements that went into
creating the months of experiences that will always
stay with me, come into my mind’s eye ….

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by

… sad evening, happy days …

 

“I have some Murphy’s Soap,” comes the call, as I’m writing
in my journal…out of site but not mind…
“Maybe you can wash the table …”

The afternoon, the after outs, has been a series of instructions
and guidances from the Radiant One,
I call her this here, to avoid calling her by her real name….no wait….
by her Not-Real but Name-She-Calls-Herself Name…..
the one that lets the world know in no uncertain terms just
Who they are dealing with…

It’s more  a staking of claims thing, a series of Adjectives that
sound like she picked out three Angel cards for the day,
the ones that imply One Who Has Achieved Enlightenment,
just in case you were wondering,  instead of just nice suggestions
for the day’s meditations…
Oh, I hope I don’t sound too bitter… I’m loosing my hold on love…

…more instructions from the Radiant One who really would like it
if I stayed a while, so that her entire Reality is clean and sparkling
and Goddess Ready …

I choose not to answer, still ensconced on the Lanai, the one
with the folding table and chair, the one place that I can venture
to call mine, the one with mosquitos who have managed to slip
in through that small tear in the screen, and
are now ravaging my calves.

She is busy on the phone, checking in with all of her Support
Services, the ones she had wanted me to call and say it was her,
the ones I refused to lie to.
She checks in on that house that she wants built in the center
of the healing center that she wants to run.
She sounds irritated, and I wonder how things are progressing.

Meanwhile, evening descends, and I phone my friends Jeff and
Eileen, those heavy duty artist friends of mine, and before
I know it, I am crying as I share deep feelings of abandonment,
of being disrespected, of the power tripper I am at the mercy of,
all of it……… no…..
By now I am sobbing…. an abused child sobbing…

Eileen is aghast,  emotional, unable to grasp the reality that
I’m puttin’ down, unable to believe that anyone could be  so cruel,
so oblivious, so controlling.
By now I’ve lost any and all empathy for the woman, and feel
pure nausea at the abuse, but still there seems to be no escape.

And there’s still this part in me that wants to stay kind, and
not allow her attributes to alter mine.

Their car is still in process, tomorrow looks good, and the
woman is unwilling to move her fat ass to drive as far as
our mutual friends’ place…

Remember….they are the ones who introduced us in the first place,
they are the ones who brought back to her her very words when
she tried to reneg on the car and charge me rent on it…
they are the ones who supported me, encouraged me,  and
shared the fact that she has HUD, and only pays $200 a month,
when she tried to get me to pay her whole rent….

They are my friends.
They also thought She was a friend, but turns out Jeff only really
knew her from years ago, when they were all stoned hippies.

Eileen , as it turns out, later refused to even speak to the woman
for more than a year, and kept saying..
“But she was mean to my Friend!”
…while Jeff is just  totally confused  with the whole story,
perhaps a little doubtful, but still miffed.

So the night passes with minimum encounters, and I’m sleeping
on the little couch, the  radio comfort wafting into the
Radiant One’s ears, and my precious jar of organic honey that
I bought while staying with Jeff and Eileen has enjoyed a
last minute black ops rescue, and is now happily stuffed into
my almost out of here bags.
No one will steal my precious organic honey and live to see dawn.

My Friends come to pick me up the next day, and I breathe
a gigantic sigh of relief, while my poor little psyche licks her bruises
and mends all the lesions in those little Hopes and Dreams and
Aspirations for a new world, kind and
Smiling Happy People holding hands…. (nice thought REM…)

They cuddle me with soft strokes and fresh fruit smoothies,
take me on walks to their favorite waterfalls, and we toast
ourselves on those warm sands, dipping in turquoise waters
for the last time, and then to the Airport, and mainland, to
Northern California, my Mendocino Heaven, where
my dear friend Mick  picks me up from the bus, and
takes me to my real home once again…

A Love Note from Jeff and Eileen…..

 

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by

… the next day …

Morning rudely rises, the bustling of skirts and stuff being
moved about reminding me of just where I am.

I rise and fold my blankies, sigh and stretch, and wonder where
today will take me.  To my friends’ home, I hope, but somehow
something in the air doesn’t feel like that.

The radiant woman showers and dresses and perfumes and
jewels herself for a goodly amount of time, while I hope for a
bathroom moment.
While she begins once again spreading out her papers and notes
and pictures, I quickly make a cup of coffee, brush my hair
and teeth, and wander outside to breathe in the day.

“Can you come here for a moment?” she sings,
“so we can go over some things?”

I sit across from her on the little couch, the papers between
us in neat little piles, my body language clearly stating that
I’m only half there, my other half running quickly
down the red clay path.

“Let’s go over our notes” she begins, and so it proceeds,
day by day, week by week, with how much time I actually spent
sewing for her, and why did I charge $10 for cleaning that
3 days sitting juicer, and what about this call here to the
mainland, did it Really take all those hours to wash all the screens,
and how much ink did I use on the printer, do I think.
Dog food?  how much was that again?  do you have receipts
for the dog brush and shampoo?”

The ants in my pants begin to bite.

At last it comes to a place where I can escape, and I go outside
to breathe, red flames flashing from my nostrils when
she’s not looking…. calm….  I must stay calm.

“We need to go out today, my back is too bad for me to drive, and
I need to get food and mail some things, and we should make a
dump run, and I need to stop by the welfare office for a minute,
and …”
Slowly my mental ear muffs slide over the openings to my brain,
and I realize I am trapped, no escape here.
There is no way for me to leave on my own, my friends’ car is in
the shop for a couple days, and my head begins spinning.

She Has me, and she’s not about to let this opportunity pass her by.
Goddess only knows when the next fly will wander into the web.

 

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by

… the woman returns …

As the rains wash the faces of lush leaves and grateful grasses,
I become restless for change.  Contact with old friends brings
longings to my heart, longings for home and the familiar.

Work lined up, the late summer that some call Indian Summer,
has descended upon the Coast of California, the colors and warm
waters calling to my senses.
It’s time to pin down times, make plans, find friends to greet me,
and say goodbye to my island times in Hilo Town.

The Radiant One has announced her arrivals, and I will be driving
Her car to pick Her up, and chauffeur Her to home.
Completions are both delightful and difficult.

I decide in my journal, that She will be a character in some novel
of mine, for I have yet to meet anyone who glows with such self
absorption, such clear definition of who she is and what her
roles are…as well as everyone else’s.

I arrive at the Airport, brilliant sun, swaying palms, soft trades
wafting flower essences, and I am high on life.
Soon she is spotted, and we smile and embrace.
Her patchouli blots out all soft frangipani and plumeria,
as though her conflicts are with the entire island, that must
now know with all certainty, that She is returned.

She wears dark rich colors, and many layers, covering her more
than abundant flesh.  There’s no telling where the layers end
and the flesh begins, but it’s clear to see she has eaten well.
Kohl eyes, dark dyed hair, necklaces tinkling, bracelets
shimmering as she motions to where her luggage is.

I must lift them off the carousel, as her back is bad.
As she glances around to see if that handsome porter has
noticed her, her earrings, massive and audible, tangle in the
bundles of dark hair and veils and scarves, and she seems
somewhat unaware that I am struggling in any way to place
her things on a cart, and get the hell out of there.

The fact that I am 5-2 doesn’t seem to faze her….ah but I am
strong, pain free, able bodied, never mind that I  am easily within
three years of her age, and nearly half her size….
I bring the car to the curb, load the suitcases, and thankfully
she finds the door handle herself,  and manages to slide her
abundant beingness inside without help.

Phase one completed.

Homeward bound, she chats about her past and her future.
Endlessly.
There doesn’t seem to be much present, but then
I allow for jet lag.
It’s early evening, and after I unload the car and bring her things
upstairs for her, she begins unpacking, and now moves in to her
bedroom, the place I have slept for two months.
My things, of course, have been packed up and moved out, and
I figure since it’s a small place, the screened lanai is the best place
to be out of her way, while the different parts of her arrive.
There is a card table and a folding chair… and mosquitos.

She moves to the kitchen, where she begins putting things in order…
and I discover that Her order is to put all my foods away in the
cupboard and refrigerator where She likes them, instead together
and accessible on the front shelf.
All my food is now hidden from view, including all my wonderful
and expensive organic coffees, now in Her freezer, my cream,
butters, nuts and cheeses, now in Her fridge door shelves behind
doors, and my condiments up high on Her shelves where
I can’t reach them…..
Everything is now marked with her scent and assigned
a new life in her world.

The Shock of her assumptions proceeds to confusion….
what the what?
…and I wonder if all of her nerve endings make U turns back into
themselves, because there seems to be no input from anything
outside of Herself.

When something about my food is mentioned, the reply comes…
“Don’t worry about it….” she tosses off over her left shoulder…
“I left you plenty of food.”

Uh….hmmmm….but  as I recall, it consisted of some produce that
needed quick use, much of which was cooked and fed to her male
friends, who’d been told that I would make lunch for them,
good slave girl that I am.  Oh well…..

I make plans for a black ops rescue, my coffee and cheeses and
almonds and sauces rushed to safety, while she’s in the shower…..

The evening looms, and although there is a small couch in the
front room that I figure I can now relax on, she seems to have
taken that over, spreading out all sorts of papers and notes and
receipts and pictures, and is lost in her ordering-of-self phase.
She never makes eye contact…

She brings out all of her precious Icons now, the ones I carefully
put away in drawers for safe keeping, and for my sanity.
She thoughtfully arranges them, one by one, each
in its proper place.

Oh it’s gonna be a long night.
She couldn’t Possibly venture out into the world to drive me to
my friends’ house tonight!  She’s exhausted.

She turns on her radio station, and crawls into bed.
There are night lights, and the sounds are loud.
At some point, I quietly move to turn down the volume, but
like a cat with one eye open, she catches me, and insists that
it be turned back to where it was.
She just can’t sleep without the radio on.

At last I curl up on that little couch, pillow over my head,
hoping to pretend to hear the trades, and see the moon.

 

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by

… snack-o-rama …

It’s been Hot here. …yesterday it was 100 and over….
Too hot to cook, and almost too hot to eat,… almost….

…and I found myself taking out the cucumbers…and then
some cheese……and then…..
…then I remembered something that Alcir and I used to make
when it was So Hot in Rio, and we were both trying out the
Low Carb diet, where you eat things like protein and cheeses,
but no breads or crackers…

This was during my second visit, the one I haven’t told you about yet,
the one in 2006, when I stayed for Six months instead of one….
So I am jumping ahead a bit, but time travel is something allowed
here in writing on the internet land…

He had stopped drinking, and we both wanted to loose a little….
the low carbohydrate diet is easy and satisfying… mostly protein
and there are lots of things allowed that have very little carbs.

So we wanted a little tray of munchies while we were watching
TV, and decided to substitute slices of cukes for the cracker part,
and stack thinly sliced veggies and cheeses with little touches
of things for color…. creating the cutest trayful of yummy
and appetizing Appetizers!

He called it our SNACK-O-RAMA….
“BABE!”… he’d call out from the little room, as he watched TV…
“Make us our Snackorama!”

Here are our ingredients, to which you can add, I am sure!

*Slices of Cucumber
*Cheeses…. cheddar, parmesan, cream cheese (great for sticking
things together)
*Small pieces or slices of:  radishes…olives… purple onion…
…pepperacini.. (we couldn’t get these in Rio…like a lot of other
things I adored……..see list below)
*Touches of green…. green onion, celantro, parsley,
*Small pieces of fish, like LOX, salted cod, even leftover chicken.

You get the idea….. make each one a little different, and so pretty!
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Some of these things were not available in Rio…to my dismay!
I am a serious cook, love to cook from scratch, and yes,
I”m an American and a bit spoiled, yet some of these things
just seemed strange….
Things like:

Tortillas…. not at all!
Large bags of Plain Chips…all they offered were individual bags
of Flavored ones, which I hate…
anchovies
sour cream
salsa
organic anything except some produce
powdered sugar
unsweetened chocolate
oven thermometer
fresh milk…it was all Canned!!!
sharp cheddar cheese
fresh fish… he wouldn’t even let me buy any…too old
anything to make sushi…rice. seaweeds, raw fish
california wines and beers…the best!
natural oils
naturopathic remedies
large sizes of Anything…toothpaste, yogurt, all was Travel sizes.
peanut butter
good celery
thai curry
mushrooms
yeast for making bread

Also there were odd things for me to adjust to…
Aspirin was the equivalent in buying power, of $1 per tablet,
and they were sold in sheets of individual bubbled by the dozen…

At the Pharmacy, however, you could get antibiotics from them
without a prescription…..

 

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by

… fall approaches …

VIEW from Jeff and Eileen’s Condo…. to the Left.

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….. And to the Right.

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As the “Radiant One”  stays a few weeks longer, I begin completing
tasks and contacts on the island.
The Hilton on Kona side loves my Gem Stone Jewelry, and puts
a dozen high end pieces in their showcases…. nice.
Expensive with rich clients…

The home owner who lives close by lets me know that if I want to
come back, he would gladly rent to me when the woman leaves.
He likes my work ethic…

My friends Jeff and Eileen have now moved to a third floor condo,
and with a view of the Bay, with little boats in and out.
I have this recurring fantasy of Alcir sailing into view.

Talks with Alcir continue, and although he is very distracted
with classes and long studies, we keep on having these great
times together.
I find myself feeling hopeful again, as his mood improves, and
great hopes for his future grow larger on the horizon.
He’s drinking less because of classes and studies, and his need
for clarity…. and a memory!

“You know Chico and Tekko?”  he asks.
Since i don’t get the reference, he explains…
“Chico and Tekko are this squirrel and this chipmunk in
a Disney  cartoon.

“I only have two neurons, Chico and Tekko…. ” he smiles.
“I usually work with one at a time, but when they get together,
they fight…”  and he chuckles at his own imagery.

He mentions calling me long time ago, when he returned
to Brasil, after the Foreign Legion.
As we talk, I realize he means Before I ever emailed him,
long time ago, like 1990s sometime.
As I question him, it all comes out, and he says.
“I called when I came back to Brasil the second time…. 1994?…
…after Desert Storm…and I got some store who said they
never heard of you.
I called your old number…the one on your card”

“You kept my Card?” I wondered incredulously …
my Celestial Dreams card, my cute little store in town.

I remembered when he called me, way back  in the old days…
“Hello?  Eeees Theeees Celestial Dreeeems?  Yes…..
I’d like to order one Celestial Dreeem Pleeees…..”

Funny thing was, after spending over a year on Kauai and
going through Hurricane Iniki in 1992, when I returned to the
NorCal coast I actually tried to get my old number again.
I thought it would be a good thing for any number of reasons,
some professional contacts….but they said it was already
being used by someone else.

But I also remembered thinking way back there in my mind that
if I had that number again, perhaps someday he’d find me.

I begin to make plans for leaving.  I’m thinking back to the
Northern California Coast, and such a great timing, what with
harvest season, and so many friends there offering work.
Oh this will be fun And abundance for travel!

 

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by

… the steve factor …

September 2005

Still island time, but it’s as though I see off in the distance,
where the road turns, and a new time begins.
Once the woman of this house returns, my time here closes,
and although returning is more than possible, still that
Northern California town calls to me now…
and since it’s harvest time, the timing could be perfect.

The days tick along, with long walks, jungle clearing, jewelry
making, and occasional visits from this fellow Steve.
The woman tells me he’s a great guy, that they have been lovers,
and that I should consider him as well.
He’s also the one I’m supposed to call if something needs fixing.

It’s not that I don’t understand that old hippie ethic that includes
sharing lovers, but frankly I’m having doubts about her abilities of
discernment, and besides, and most importantly,
he does Nothing for me.
I’m in Love with Alcir.

Steve, on the other hand, can be very handy to fix things around
the place, and she keeps telling me this, but he’s like a
silly little panting dog, humping my leg.
Why do I get the feeling that he’s used to being paid in skin?
Could it be that he’s been getting happy endings too?

That Play opens up in Volcano, with Jason Scott Lee, and I must go,
cannot miss this opportunity, and though I ask Jeff and Eileen
to go with, only Steve ends up coming along.
I dress up, of course, and as we depart, I’m thinking that
he’s thinking it’s for him……..  whoops!

The theater is tiny, and set up like a small living room.
We are in the front row, of which there are only 3, and maybe
20 seats wide.
Small intimate venue.  Lovely.
Throughout the play, the actors are sometimes only a couple feet
away, and it creates this feeling of being part of the play yourself.
It’s Visceral, you Feel it, I mean they’re spitting on you….
Our front row seats are right there on the players’ floor….

The themes are timely, with political overtones, but clear character development.  Everyone is lively, present, and professional.

There’s something about Jason’s energies, his lightness, his
intelligence.  He Glows….There’s this underlying Joy that simply
Beams off of his face, his skin, like a leaping dolphin.

Afterwards, as we go out to mingle, I am able to spend a few
minutes with him, and my head literally spins with his energy.
The man is so conscious, present, softly intense.

He looks deeply in the eyes, takes in the words I share with him,
his warm hand holds magnetic resonance, and I do not wonder
why he has left Hollywood at the peak of his career.
The man is on another plane, highly evolved, a beautiful soul.

He grew up in Hawaii, Chinese Hawaiian like Keanu Reeves, and
there is that Asian, quietly thoughtful thing that you can pick up,
as well as intense discipline, and great physicality.

His personal directions involve environmental issues and
working to return the area of the land he has purchased
(around the theater he has built), to its original state,
as well as writing and acting and directing.
My contact high continues for quite a while after our exchange.
Now I want to see all his films…

Steve and I go home, and it’s clear to me he holds this Agenda.
Oh no…. oh please no….
I act tired, and he leaves… whew.

I guess since the woman was open to him, so perhaps he figures
it’s only a matter of time til I succomb as well…. sorry… ewwww.

Journal….Sept 14, 2005

After the play, I still thought maybe I could sometimes enjoy his
company …  but he came over wednesday nite with dinner,
and … am i wrong? …the evening descended on my brain like
a hammer made of gnats…
He brought this horrible chicken thing, and when I offered some
nice organic broccoli, he asked if I would cook it “mushy”…
The fresh pesto I made, he described as “interesting”, and
for the final seal …he Loves Bush and listens to Christian News.

Huge iridescent Red flags wave all around me, blocking sight of
anything  that might be even vaguely positive about the man.

“Just level Iraq”, he says,  “and get it over with. ”
I’m getting nauseous…
“Who knows about WMDs…maybe they were there…but…bla bla bla”

My mind goes fuzzy…if I wanted Rush, I’d dial him…… merde.

He’s an idiot, and I want him out of here Now…
How can this gypsy hippie woman, who subscribes to all the latest
cosmic groovies, pictures of gurus, and incense burning, and special
meditation tapes, and talk of a Spiritual Center…..all the cool-speak..
….and she dresses like she’s waiting for Rama to come out of the sky
for her and ask her to dance for him and be his bride….

How can she Do it with him?
How could she let him into her body, with such a limited brain and
ridiculous opinions… I just can’t imagine.

When the puppy dog looks begin, I find myself once again nauseous,
and I feel this itchy irritation rising up in the back of my neck,
and behind my eyes.
From the beginning I thought I’d made it clear…

He gazes at me, as the TV searches begin.
He finds a soft porn channel, and wants to leave it on.
I don’t know whether to laugh or beat him up.
I leave to get a glass of water…

He lets me know he has “a chubby”.
(I laugh to myself that that was a good word to use, as
I greatly doubt it’s a “fatty”. )
I get up and clear away the glasses….

“I’m getting horny” he half states, half whines, as
I return from the bathroom….where I gaze at myself
in the mirror and ask….. WHA????.
At this point, my brain screams, but
I breathe….and
Slowly, Clearly, I say…

“Steve….nothing’s Ever gonna happen……Ever…….
Please…you must know that by now..
I’ve told you that …..  I’m engaged, I’m in love…”
I leave out the part about how I don’t find him at all
or in the least bit attractive, and that
Alcir  could Kill him with a look…

At last he leaves, and I can breath again.  I’ve finally and completely
realized the man is incapable of  Getting it, or even being a grownup.

I cannot spend a moment more with him around… that’s IT.
The irritation is not worth the occasional help, and
certainly not this big angry emotional hangover.

When the woman calls for her mail readings, I mention Steve,
and how completely irritating I find him.
She is incredulous, and cannot understand why.
WHA???

I was having doubts before, but now I am completely convinced
of this woman’s  strange and desperate consciousness.
Later I mention this to my friends, the ones who connected us
in the first place, and I can hear their mouths hanging open as
I fill them in on the happenings….

Good Lord, life is Strange…

 

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by

… the radiant one …

September, 2005

The near daily calls from the woman chip away at my patience.

She calls for the mail readings, she calls for any messages,
she calls to ask if I’m getting along ok with Paul, the owner…..

(Little does she know that Paul has great respect for me because
of all the work (paid) I do around the place, a bit of a contrast
from what he’s been used to….. )

She calls to ask if I’m walking the dog every day, and
to make sure I’m not driving the car too much….
She calls to ask if I can wash all her
windows and screens, and scrub the ceilings…
….no really.

Since I’ve been working for  Paul, she figures she’ll get some
stuff done.  I explain what my charges are, and she of course
wants to bargain.  I also mention that I don’t do ceilings….

There are calls from men, asking about massages, and when
she will return.
One asks if I would give massages, and if I do massages like
the Radiant One.
“”What kind is that?  I ask….
“Sensual Massage….” he answers.

Next time we talk, I mention the calls, and inquire about the
particulars, and after some specific prodding,
she basically tells me that sensual massage involves Release.

Oh Good Lord.  This woman is Nuts.  She actually explains about
the Mystical Healing energies involved, and how Release is
just part of a relaxing and Spiritual massage.

I explain that Happy Endings are not my thing, at least not
in a Professional Situation, and although I do enjoy giving
massages for good pay…
( as well as enjoying the employment of
Release in a Personal setting )…..
……I decide to do None of her clients,
for fear of getting into some
very sticky situations….

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by

… her birthday …

It was 9-11, and I knew it would be a hard day for him.
Nothing to do with the US, just that it was the birthday of
the daughter, and he’d been dreading the day.

I called him yesterday, and he said he was studying hard,
because tomorrow he planed to go to the store early and
get drunk all day.

“Well,” I said…”I’ll be here if you want to talk.”

“I won’t be wanting to talk.”  he replied.

So about one pm, just when I was about to leave for Jeff’s,
he called.   There were two hangups before, but…

“Call Back!” he said. “I’m worth a minute…”

When I did, and he picked up, all he said was…

“I don’ wanna talk…just listen…”

“OK…” I blurted…

And there, through the airways come these sounds…

“Come a little closer…. Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin…We could dream this night away.
But there’s a full moon risin…Let’s go dancin in the light
We know where the music’s playin…Let’s go out and feel the night.

Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I’m still in love with you
On this Harvest Moon….

When we were strangers….I watched you from afar
When we were lovers…I loved you with all my heart
But now it’s getting late…. and the moon is climbin high
I want to celebrate……See it shinin in your eye

Because I’m still in love with you
I want to see you dance tonight
Because I’m still in love with you
On this Harvest Moon.”

When it was finished, he was back on the line.

“This is my proclamation to you!” he said.
“Those Canadians… they always last.
Like a turd, you flush it and it just stays there…”

He laughed at himself…
“Guess that’s why they’re so close to the asshole…”
…he snickered again…  “I just made that up, just now”

“So…how’s that for someone who had nothing to say,
and a Canadian said it all for me…
That’s how I feel babe.  It’s all true.
In all this misery, I forgot the one good thing in my life,
and that is You.
Thank you for being in my life”
…”Wait…..are you sobbing?”

“No, just a couple tears…”

“Oh you woman…!”

“Thank you for being in My life” I returned..
“We Both deserve it”

“Whatever!”

“Whatever!…..Bye!”

“Bye…!’

Odd thing was…. I realized later that
that very night Was the Harvest Moon.

…and I knew it was no youtube….he’d just been playing his Records…
…. he had no idea it was the Harvest Moon in the US….

 

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