The fronds rustling in the chilled air and a wolf’s moon gently watches as I inhale and exhale smoke from within my soul and out towards the night sky. She looks down with her red face soon to be eclipsed and a secret nod occurs between us. She is a protector—moon goddess—and I am a loyal servant. In my sensuality I extol rituals in her name as invisible, glittering strings grow from within me and dissipate into energy like the smoke exiting my lungs. Each breath is an intention, each inhale is a collected pool of energy brought further in to my body. The moon wears a red veil and I am naked, barren without need for shrouds. No clouds exist between us now and soon we will become one.
From where enters your strength, your will to live? It reminded of how battered and bruised I have been. A memory of black clouds coming down onto me haunts my head and I had hoped that I had healed that trauma, but they asked me: where does that strength come from? There were no good answers to that question. Perhaps it was this ancestral DNA or my mother’s mitochondrial DNA that let me live though the struggle. How ungrateful I must seem, to have that survivor’s will and to hate the act of having to survive. She must look at me with disdain or maybe with pity at knowing that her scars are inscribed into my genetic makeup too.
Why have you stayed? I am asked this question, not in so many words. Sadly, no responses escape because I hold the gates tightly shut for fear of being seen as the fool. Who could have thought that this would be the woman striving to bear the fruits of my labor—so hindered by a simple soul?
Mi cabeza un zumbido
lleno de piquetes de mosquito
Y vuelan sin parar por la ciudad oscura
Mientras camino por plena noche fría sin abrigo.
Pedí que ella me abrigara
Con su colcha de sereno
Para caminar sin miedo y sin traba
Hasta la cama de mi jardinero.
Ladies and gentlemen! Come one and come all to watch this marvelous show!
For our first act we have two friends walking on steady ground before hitting the tightropes.
Let’s hope they don’t hit the sack on their way across their bridge of thread…
Thing 1 tiptoes toward Thing 2 and now each balance their feet towards the other. The center has been breached and ooopsie, I shook the tightrope!
Can Mr. and Mrs. Thang handle all that sass I’m providing? Call me Fate and we now move to our second act!
What came first, the chicken or the egg? Or are we not ready to open this bag of worms just yet? Thing 2 will now perform a tango piece with Secret Plump Sugarlips!
Little does Sugarlips know its a Tango Triangle with the Thangs. Hot dang it’s getting heated in this circus tent. Thing 1 is bringing out the lioness and can Sugarlips keep her sweet juiciness to herself or will our fierce lioness snack on the Plump Redness of Sugarlips hips?
Let’s move on to act three, this I now decree!
Wait a second, where’s Mrs. Thang going? Uh oh! This triangle just became parallelogramical and did little old Fate just make a new word up? Yes ze did!
Outstanding Lizard Man is ready to sneak into this abomination of a show! Parallelograms can hardly be kept secretive now can they? Perhaps Lizard Man can camouflage his way towards Mrs. Thang but will Mr. Thang realize the thief in the night that has come to persuade Mrs. Thang away?
Oh dear, oh dear there has been too much drama for one day!
The candle flickers, there is no change in air. The dead are screaming “no!” There are no words to describe the true reasons why, but there are words that mirror the shallowest of reasons. There is an answer for all questions asked, but the candle will flicker in a silent conversation with the individual here. It is never the same as it used to be, there is no black smoke this time, and there is only a long flame that is quick to burn all that is near.
The remembrances are what cause the dead to scream, to tell… Nothing is being told, nothing that can be spoken of. There are only secret motives, sad, sad motives. There still exist tired dreams of what there is a hope for, but they will not materialize. Nothing materializes anymore, nothing other than the flame flickering. There are goodbyes and meltdowns of something that was once solid and is now let as if nothing into the air.