Tag Archives: brazil

a love story

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.

 

—————————————

 

 

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.

 

————————————————–

 

 

 

by

… fall approaches …

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

—————————————————————————–

….. And to the Right.

————————————————————————-

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!

 

—————————————

 

 

 

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…

 

————————————–

 

 

 

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….

 

————————————–

 

 

by

… he returns …

It’s September, and after many weeks of sporatic calls,
hits and misses, Alcir comes back around to the himself
that I know and love, and begins talking.

He’d had a job for a short while… one he loved, working in
the Bay, laying some sort of lines… I think it was electrical,
and he was ecstatic.

“So, you like it?”
“oh it’s so good… I ought to be paying Them”, he laughed.
“I drive this boat around, jump in the wadder when I wan’ to,
catch a fish….. I am a very happy man.”

That didn’t last too long.  The funding got cut, the project was
dropped, and he was completely in the dumps again.

Still, there were the classes now,  the ones for a
Captain’s License, and that gave him hope.

Back in August, he called after spending time in the bar,
explaining celestial navigation….
…. a crowd had gathered…he had felt so proud.

Then he began lamenting about his daughter, and at last he
cried, sobbed uncontrollably.
I felt grateful that he could do this with me, but more so,
I was happy for him that he got some of this pain out.
As a woman, I know how important it is to cry.

“This thing is killing me,” he began, “and I’d just End it, but
I’m too much of a coward. ”

“No, that’s not true” I replied…
“It takes a braver man to stay and feel it, to grow.”

Now the daughter came up again… it was eating away at him,
as the mother and he were so at odds, she wouldn’t allow him
to take her, or even see her.

“I told V that I would be alone… an she said
‘No Daddy… I’ll be there’, an I said
No you won’t.   I will be alone now.”

He went on to change the subject…

“When I met you that first time, I was scared… but every time
I turned around I thought of you…and then that 4th of July,
when we did it for real…you fit like you…it…was made for me…
you’re my woman…
…an  now, I wanna be with somebody who shows me how
it is to feel that…
I wanna be with somebody who loves me like you love me…
Oh, I’m gonna put on Frank Zappa records, and fuck you…”

then he turned a corner… he did this a lot… thing to thing

“So Hunter S Thompson died…… an they shot his ashes out
of a cannon like he wanted….oh that’s beautiful!
I want my ashes to be blown out of a cannon…
play a bugle ……play anything…
Saints go Marchin in………..Me and Bobby Magee…
I don’ care…just get me outa there…”

“When I die, I’m gonna sign a paper that says to donate
my liver to science… they need to study me…I’m not normal.
I’m a guzzling V8, built to last.  ”

“I nearly beat the British world record for diving, 419 meters.
I made it to 413…..that was with professional diving equipment,
helium and nitrogen.”

“In my first free dive, I broke 75 meters!  the guys on the boat
didn’t believe me, so I followed the anchor back down, an
brought back some dirt, so they’d know!
I’m not a normal man, babe.  ”

“I don’ believe in God, macumba, gnones, santa claus …
…nothing…but one thing I believe in is a man’s envy….
they give you the Oro Grande…. the Big Eye…
an then I shut up an have another drink.
It’s a man’s ability of another man to kill with envy….  ”

Then, as he closed for the night, the tenderness came…

“I wouldn’t be here tonite, if not for you.
I’d go to the bar, an I’d have gotten in a fight…….
………… oh woman…. ”  and he sighed.

 

—————————————-

 

 

 

by

… the coquis …

My friends Jeff and Eileen had to move again… they have been
house sitting the place on the papaya plantation, and that has
come to an end… so Jeff calls and asks if I’ll come look at this place
with him, as Eileen is on the mainland.

We arrive, and it’s in the middle of what is literally a tropical forest.
It’s an upstairs artists’ loft, and as we climb the stairs, there are
wild and leafy murals on each side, guiding us to a widely windowed
flat with sweeping views of the treetops, vines draping, little balconies
on which to stand, open except for a bedroom, enclosed Asian style.

The openness of the place immediately strikes me, and a vision of
their work spaces and wide tables covered with projects just fits,
under those high ceilings, fans dreamily turning, breezes softly
wafting, that eternal blueness in the distance.
It opens the brain pan, stretches the reach of inspiration.
…..and for me it’s an immediate Yes!

He is one of the inventors of the Hologram, with a couple other guys
back in the sixties.  Their style was the flat kind…the ones that jump
off the page at you.
There was another school of thought developing at the same time,
and oddly enough I know one of those fellows as well.
They each have chosen to spend time in Point Arena, and of course
are friends now as well.
That school developed the one that you can walk around, and the
image follows you and changes, moves…

The most famous and original holo is called The Kiss.  You may
have seen it.
The woman was quite young at the time, and she is blowing a kiss
to you as you move from one side to the other of this semi circle
of clear material mounted on the wall, that holds the imagery.

I wish I understood holos.  Jeff has tried to explain them to me,
but to no avail.  To me they are just magic, pure and simple.

Eileen is this magical little elfin person, a blond sprite brimming
over with energy and glee from just being alive.  She was the
protegee of Erte, the old queen artist world famous for costumes
and stage design, as well as fashion, in the thirties and forties.
She worked and trained with him for seven years.

Now she designs the most glorious sculptures that are reproduced
for large companies like Promax, MTV,  and others, for their awards ceremonies.
We’ve all seen the Oscars… no, she didn’t design these, but hers
are much like that, frequently female forms which she excels in,
and you can see Erte’s influence in all her work.  Lucky her!

She has been commissioned make both 2D and 3D objects d’Art
for many famous people and their estates, like the clear lucite
miniature “Lucile” guitar, a gift for BB King, and etched repros of
John Lennon sketches.  So many wonderful things,  I won’t go on.

So an expansive creative space for these two is rather essential!

I’m completely going Yes with all of my being, and Jeff loves it, but
he’s having trouble deciding.  Eileen is gone, he must make the call,
and there’s one big problem.
That gorgeous jungle out three sides of windows?  it’s filled with….
the infamous COQUI FROG!!.  Millions of them.

They started invading the big island years ago, and now have taken
over many places…so much so that it’s lowering the land values.
No Really… some people just freak out at the sound.
Personally, i think it’s quite clever of those little frogs…

See… they are tiny frogs (one inch) with very big voices, and
at night they hold major parties with wild abandon, dancing girls
and froggy orgies…!
Great for them, but their chirps are so loud, you’d never guess
their tiny size, and some people’s brains just get taken over
by their vibrational levels.

To me they sound like crickets… allbeit very Loud crickets…but
I can just put them in that category in my mind, and be done with it.
He’s just not sure She will be able to cope.  She’s sensitive…

He decides, we decide, and next day I help him move all their studios
into this magical place… done with it, and Eis will have to adjust, at
least until the next place.   Earplugs work…she loves ear plugs.

They like to move a lot, and because of their work they have so many connections with monied folks, and they end up house sitting 3/4 of
the time in amazing places.  They love change.  I think it inspires them.

Meanwhile, I am delighting in my little hippie house with dog and cat, landscaping work, helping the owner next door organize and clean,
and exploring the island a little.

Up in a town called Volcano, up top of the…. bet you guessed….
there has been built a tiny theater … the Ulua , named for a fish…
and the entire area around it is being brought back to its original
glory, with plantings and clearings.

Jason Scott Lee, famous for playing Bruce Lee, Mowgli in Jungle Book,
and The King on stage in NY in their the King and I production….
He has left Hollywood,  gone native, back to his roots, and built this
little theater, so now there’s this little energy center forming that
I find fascinating.
He’s focusing on natural farming and sustainable agriculture, all
around his property, and is seriously weary of the Hollywood scene.

There’s his first play opening soon, Burn This, and I plan to go.
Maybe Jeff and Eileen, and maybe this guy Steve, will go too…..

——————————————–

Go here if you want to know more  about the COQUIS!!!
and you can hear them too….

http://www.hawaiiancoqui.org/

——————————————–

by

… the fourth …

How funny, to be here in July, when I am writing about this date.
I honestly haven’t thought about Alcir on this July day for many
years, and yet now July 4th in 2005 is not just in my mind,
but in my writings.  And so is the one in 1986.

Being an American… Alcir didn’t like me using that term, and
reminded me that Brasil was American too!
Being from the US, we are so self centered, and think of the
whole world celebrating Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July,
but no… They are ours and ours alone.

But I read from my friends that that picnic that happens every
year up on the ridge, in Northern California, in the summer warms,
with music and oyster bar and good beer, the one when I sang
in that Blues Band, and watched him watching me…
It’s going on right now….

The fireworks are no longer on that long beach, my favorite
beach, with the bonfire and the sparks flying into the night sky
to join the stars, and us sitting on that log.

They’ve been on the pier in Point Arena for many years, the Pier
that he loved, in that little town that he loved…
And it’s a great show.  Everyone sits on those giant rocks they
brought in after the massive storms took out the old pier.
And they sit on the balcony of the newer building down there,
the one built over the old cafe…Sophie’s Cafe, with the
Greek dancing at midnight.
The one I was sitting in when we were new, and he came by to
say hello, before going out to dive for our dinner.

The parking lot is still there, where he displayed his catch along
with the other divers, and he peeled off his body suit in front of me.

And that night… the first night… is still there, hanging in forever,
frozen on fire, a warm glow of coals and sparks to rekindle my
spirit and remind me that magic does happen, and life is good.

Alcir recently wrote
” …It’s 5 am and I am in Norway having a “few” 1664 Kronenbourg,
some shots of Glenmorangie, smoking a Jose Piedra Vuelta Arriba,
watching “The Man Show”, and the Venus passage in front of the sun,
in MY BOAT…..”

And now today I send this, my favorite quote from “Castaway”,
to him, and imagine him on His Boat, with that great big grin…

“And I know what I have to do now.   I gotta keep breathing.
Because tomorrow the sun will rise.
Who knows what the tide could bring? ”

 

———————————-

 

 

by

… talk …

After she got off the phone, after his terrible confession,
she sat for a while.
Her hands were shaking horribly, as they had been since
he’d begun telling her.
Just by his tone, she had known what was coming, and her
body had begun quaking just a bit, as her mind stood still.

And now she cried.  Of course she did, and for a long time.
The words escaping from her mouth were only for herself
and the sky, but they poured out none the less.
She cried so much she wondered if the sobs would ever leave,
but of course they did.  They washed out with the rain, and
then the journal came out.

Pages of rants, cries, whys, how could hes, how will it evers,
and so forth.  For pages…

Not that she was not experienced at these sorts of things.
On the contrary, she had been married to what had turned
out to be a sex addict, although she was too naiive to know
it at the time.
She thought he was just figuring himself out, in that cute little
sixties way, and she being in the Hippie mode, thought it was
healthy to let him.  She had trusted him implicitly.
They were going to be completely honest with eachother…
Although actually it was the seventies, and not quite as
innocent anymore.
The worst part about it was not the sex with others…
it was the lies and hiding for a month, and then the confessions,
the tears, and then realizing that a month had gone by with
his hiding it and lying, and eventually it just made her mad…
….Mad…as in Crazy.  Eventually All Trust was Destroyed.

Well, at least he told me, she thought….and quickly.
But I’m not there, and I don’t know when I will be, and he’s
way to cute and crazy Not to stray once in a while, even when
I Am there.  That Latin men thing.  Male privilege.

The ole double standards thing, which is one of the two
worst things ever, as far as she was concerned.
The other is being taken for granted.
They sort of go hand in hand, don’t they.

It was 5 or 6 when the phone rang, insistently dragging her
out of her solitary sad, forcing her to clear her throat,
put on the smile voice, and answer.

“Hello…?”

“Well… do you have anything you wanna say to me?”
the Voice came.

“Not really.  I guess that depends on what you have to say to me…”

“I’m not doing too well…. I drank almost a whole bottle” …
…she knew this meant scotch, his favorite imbibement.

“I can’t sleep, I’m not feeling too good about myself,” he continued,
“and I want to apologize.”

“What are you apologizing for?” she ventured, honestly unsure
of where he was at in all of this.

“For breaking our agreement to eachother.  I knew it was wrong
when I was doing it.  It meant nothing.  There is no relationship,
no time spent together, only sex.”

“Does she know about me?” she now wondered, as she really
didn’t know this side of him, nor how he behaved in these times.

“Yes, she knows about you, of course, what do you think?
I’m not a scoundrel.  I’m not going to tremble before you.
I’m not going to sweat…. well….
this is not a video phone, so if I do sweat you won’t know…”

Well…she thought…. he’s doing pretty well so far.  Saying
the right things anyway.  It’s just the trust thing.  The not
knowing what was true, and what would be true, especially
at this distance.  No eyes to peer into.

The conversation closed on a neutral level, he having said
what he needed to say, she unable to move forward, let go,
believe again, but now at least  in a place where she could
see beyond the darkness, the light out there at the end of that
terrible tunnel beginning to grow just a little….

 

———————————

 

 

by

… the anniversary …

It was the day they got together… hooked up… did it
for reals … and she always had remembered the day.
It was easy… the Fourth of July.

People joke about it, how getting together with someone
was like the Fourth, skyrockets, all that, but it was that
too… and on the very Day, with the sounds and flashes
still reverberating in the night skies.

That was a long time ago.. 1987… yet it was clear as spring
water on a summer’s day.

It’s 2005, and she called him all day.
It was the first time the date had come around since
they had found eachother again.

She called into the night, but no answer.  The phones
were often out in Brasil, but it was odd that no one
answered for so long.
It was mid morning on the Fifth that he picked up…
he’d not been home that long.

“How Are you?”… his jolly voice barked at her.
“Sad and lonely… not good this week” she drifted off.
“Really?” came the response.  Quiet…

“Where have you been?” she asked quietly, the first thing
on her mind, relief and strange wondering mixing in her.

“Oh, I was checking out a job, I was visiting a friend, I got
a haircut… I Knew it was our Day …blah blah …”
…..the list went on, but she wasn’t hearing the details,
only the tone.  A certain manic thing…

“Listen… I have to tell you.  I wasn’t looking, but I got
a haircut, and I ran into someone I’d known before…
(her heart suddenly went dead)

“well, I don’t have to tell you do I?
I’m not going to apologize.
It meant nothing…

“….Say something…!”

She was without words.  The sounds were there, but nothing
came from her lips.  Her breath came in shallow whispers.
(please allow me to absorb this, she thought, but could not say)

“If you go out and do something to retaliate, it’s over!”…
…he shot back at her over the line.

“It was just sex, tits and ass…”
Quickly he evaporated the subject, and his hurried voice
filled in the hollows.

“I want to buy a ticket for my wife to come here…
I caught a 30# fish, I’m good, you’re gonna be so
proud you chose me…”

Still she could not form words… everything was floating.

“I’m not going to say it was the alcohol or the drugs…
I wanted her, she appealed to me …
I’m being modest here…
I had a hard time.  I decided I needed a reward….

“Do you want to think about it and call me later…?

His voice went on in her ear, she doing her best to just
hear what the words were, and put them away for keeping,
to interpret them later…

“If you don’ wanna speak with me ever again, just let me know…
I’ll pay you back what I owe you.  I’ll sell my car, my watch…”

….”Do you love me?”….

While he waited for her to breath again, he started singing
Lou Reed’s  “Walk on the Wild Side”, and when he got to
…”an’ the colored girls sang do de doo de doo…”,
she almost threw up.

“I can’t do this right now” came out of her mouth instead,
and she hung up.

 

————————–