Archive for May, 2013

Lugar de Agua Y Nopal

Posted: May 16, 2013 in Fiction

In a fearful state of mind grass in the wind sounds like a hissing snake.  A babbling brook a rattler’s tail.  Out here I was being philosophical, coming up with all sorts of reasons why he was better than me. Why she was so aloof.  Shit like: Well, you’re feelings aren’t real.  They are but a perception of events, an interpretation had through a prism.  A very broken prism, but a prism none the less.  You have to isolate and distance reality from you perception of it.  She not wanting you is one thing. Assuming you don’t deserve her is quite another. Just then, I heard from among the trees what ought not be there.  Footsteps. I thought I was alone.

Perdoname señor, perdoname.  Puedo molestarte por una gotita de agua.

Were I thirsty, I might have thought the better of it. But I had gulped half the bottle of water not a minute ago so thirsty I was not. Seguro que si, I say

Ando caminando desde Mexico, mijo. Ando bien cansado.  muchisimas gracias por el agua.

He slumped on the ground, heavy of breath.

No te qiuero molestar mas mijo asi es que; por casualdiad no trais…

He gestured with his hand some kind of universal sign for money. I admit, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that my first reaction was: This fucking dude!  I just spent my last dollar on a girl who didn’t even bother to hug me last night.  Last week I gave my last twenty-five to a bill from twenty years ago. And now this guy wants the last of my cash now?! I took a single deep breath, the sigh of which, encapsulated my immediate sentiments.  I observed his broken down form, his beleagured spirit. His dark skin looked sickly and inedible.

Crouching slowly beside him, I spat upon the ground beside us expelling the bitter taste of superiority that dried my toungue.  I tilted my great head and was like: dejame pregunarte una cosa. Encontraste a Dios en el camino. Lo enconraste aqui, este lugar de agua y nopal?

Dejame decirtelo haci mijo, he said, de lo tanto que qiueria oyir una voz; hasta pedi por el.  Solo oyi el voz mio, que es voz de angustia.

His shoulders shrugged, his eyebrows lifted and his lips puckered in sheer acceptance.

Pero, he continued, cuando esta muy fruerte el sol busco la sombra.  Cuando viene la oscuridad, lo tengo miedo.  Cuando…ya no puedo mas, lloro.

He lifted the bottle of water in the air. Cuando me da sed, me dan agua.

He smiled

Y, nodding his head, cuando encuentro la maravilloso digo “Wow!”  Mijo, en el camino , como aqui en este lugar, son los hormigas el que te quita lo pendejo, no la voz de un dios.  Las Palmurranas.

I rose to my feet ready to give him money from my pocket.  In the distance the train echoed its haunting refrain and beat its wheels into the track like mighty drums.  This jolted him out of his pensive state. I gave him the last of the money I had in my pocket.  We locked in a gaze for a second, then turned and walked away.  Walking back from the brush, I came upon an old pier that was alone and disheveled, left to fend for itself.  I thought about the old man and how the two were eerily similar in form.  I thought about the memories made on that pier andabout the memories he had locked away in his heart and mind.  Among the miscellany of carved out words and sentiments drawn in ink, I noticed one particular one dated June ’96:  “I was here, she was not.”

Dije “Wow!”

Pier DKP

Advertisements

Dear reader:

There’s no sense in going further.  After all was said and done, the fact remained, I fell for it again.   When will I ever learn? And it began with a rush of wind; a blistering hope that was poked and prodded but left to scab in the open air.

She was looking good, really good. Far beyond me.  And for moments at a time I felt like another man; wholly another man in the shade of her smile.  Someone worth her effort, worth her affection.  There was no time to tell her, left it up to the gods to do that. But they were silent last night. Silent like the screams into my pillow.  Felt like the first grade fool I always knew I was; a chump even.  But there I was, longing for her touch, silently begging her to calm the wolves of my desire.  Leaving crumbs like clues, desperately hoping she’d follow them.  But the wolves prevailed and they devoured me.

I don’t have the strength to live in that world; never the man worth the effort. Worth the affection. Sad to report I am less a man and more a bundle of meaningless words.  Words that get me nowhere.  Mediocrity is my first and last name and I can’t erase it from the blackboard.  Never been good enough, never will be.  And yet, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I fell for it again.

I’ve often think of castration.  Thought about it so much it scares me: perhaps Origen was on to something.  Of what use is thirst if water is far off and undrinkable.  Or rather, it is my fountain that is tepid and forgettable. Utterly unworthy to hold such flowing water.

Here I am, dear reader: angry, besmirched, feeling foolish beyond measure for even having entertained thoughts of her.  Alive and wide awake in an ever gathering dark and I cannot contain it. It consumes me more and more, day by day, night by night.  My cup overflows with the filth of my existence. And I am but a bundle of meaningless words.  Expressions that go unheard.

Does she wither at the lack of me? Does she writhe into her pillow cause I’m not there?

There’s no sense in going further.