I never told her

 



   A rare Sun-ray, like a stamp, insisted on appearing on a day between September and October, a rainy Friday, gasoline prices in the South Continent with higher variation, and with little hope smashed in the pocket. The dirty, expensive glasses tucked into the inside pocket of my blazer. I can not see without glasses. I do not hear very well; my attention changes stroll.

    The humid air was a splendid taste waiting for people, an illusion. To my life, it was a future without a tomorrow, never seen again. A friend greeted me: it is me, man. She passed along, and I saw the traces of high shoes cracking the sidewalk with an enchantment of a woman with a clear decision to follow, a direction to do a logical thing or decidedly cause a nightmare in the life of someone.

    In her face was inscription an annoyance charm natural from that day. Their eyes were green - or not, a trail between her eyebrows, giving a fashion look on the place, a responsibility to do.

    Maybe do not marry or take off the ring, the clothes adjusted, the tiny pearl collar hanging her neck, two white balls of the same type in the ears - no watch.

    However, she looked at it sometimes for the pulse seeking it, the blue with pellets in the pearls drawn on the fabric. I had made a rapid course about the conjugation of things - and it was because I believed that the environment could write some sense concerning welfare or an ill to be, and by chance saw that the organization of something can show a mode of detachment and also closure from an expected logic. In addition to these thoughts, I had an insight that the price of gasoline did not provoke me in aesthetic vitality.

    Until that moment, the price does not affect me. It does not offer me any relation. No understanding that I could make a connection with what I had learned. Color complementary, design, followed fashion, relations with body human, a high shoe heel pointed writing something like: I was here.

    She makes the gaze look of confidence lost, hiding a pretending in each step made with a balance in curves defining the path. She had a movement, not a funny goodbye. Faster look back, fast ahead with tenderly and laminar, tragic attention for the purse that swung away. That seemed like an anchor that she dragged in the air.

She did not try turning eyes to me again, not moving head, the soul to me. I felt like she was spinning her hair, squeezing her fingers quietly, and her nails were sparkling. Her tall body could attack anyone, hands in a course without turning to jump and ripping skin to the bones.

   I was falling in love, in each gesture touched me. I imagined her sliding as a lovely frog giving the grace to rain. Do you note that I do not have an umbrella? What are you waiting for to help me? Did I hear that? A wet hair in the rain, I liked this, a determined woman pretending to be the owner of oil petrol wells. 

   She was hunting pearls, and a smuggler with turns of her necklaces could discover. Rails between her eyebrows showed her spirit tough, a large nose like a train station, for a fugue certainly. Write with the point of eyelashes like hell, some secrets in a language you do not know.

   Provoking me that bad can see, crossing an avenue in a day lost. I should kill her before disappearing before she explores sad and hungry children in a country the size of hopelessness. A country rich and independent of education - at least that. 

   And digs deep wells to take off the oil - maybe battery too, using clothes blue made in looms from a fabric worked by the same children; sophisticated shoes upper sewn by children too.

   She was beautiful, sweet, someone beyond the common. I saw her opening a known expensive car that consumes a lot of fuel. She opened the car door, sat at the wheel, continuously opened the glass, and waved to me. Why did she wave to me? I tried to avoid looks, pretending not to see her, but she screamed my first name, so I had to turn and face that bandit. I stay close to her: hi, love. I should tell and miss the only chance to keep silent. Losing the charm, let it go away. Live only for love. I never told her.

                                                                  #######




                         Charlie 

 



I am someone who came from a place that never was. River water, calm lakes, waterfalls, edges where bushes and trees grow, the open field, the sky reflected in my hands in the trembling mirror of the river, the waits I am, this man lying in the river in the middle of autumn of my existence, loves his children, he likes to be alone, and he has a great company. I leave out the conceptual groups that put their finger on the face and follow fashion. I try not to be like that. In this boat, I am also the water where I sail. I take the sky with me, the fields, the flowers, and the fragrant herbs all my mornings. I am a being of the dawn. The scandal of nature in the voice of a bird, the incessant hum of the bells that insects make. I look like it, but I am not afraid of anything. I do not think I ever was. Indeed, my father, especially my mother, sweetly led me to read and write. I am always primary; I am still learning to read and write, row, and let the boat go safely. pmnt

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