“I promise if you stay in my life…” you said. And yes, you are still here…
“For what is real except we each in a life make real for our Self?” I also wondered. Often and aloud.
Better off not depending on depending, I figured. Likely to be blamed for an outburst which could be confused with love or hate.
“Never take a step with out your pants on.”
::In My Fathers House
That’s what he told me. And I told it to you one day, also. But then that was a wasted admonishment on you, You who eventually gave up wearing them because:
”what’s the point? They just get ripped off and broken all the time…” till eventually you never owned any panties, in all the years since we started living together.
And if that was not enough – to then boast about it to our friends. When you were asked what we do to keep the magic in this relationship. That is probably the cause of why we were getting it on all the time…not the result…and so then too occupied to think about infidelities and separation and all the other crap they were all going thru’. Yes Carnalita. It was you!
The Tropic of Capricorn::
My feet were as fast as a toreador, and you loved to dance…Ask for more…dance the dance until you would pass out for a short while…me exhausted beside you on the grass
“Under this blue Spanish sky….”
The maddening Spanish song
In the Blue Biscayne travelling upto Vilancoulos from Inhambane in the crazed tropical heat.
You peeled your lapis lazuli dress so we could make love on the side of the highway at the Tropic of Capricorn, on Morrungulu turn off.
I laid back on the hood of “The Beast” and let you laughing have your way with me.
Riding up and down my “tropic of Capricorn”, as you described it.
Parked here on the side of the highway
“I know the words - but they come out wrong”.
In this crazy Spanish Song.
We born on the Tropics...are the Tropics::
You on Cancer. Me on Capricorn.
The sun moves between Cancer and Capricorn: creating the seasons.
Winter and summer are more pronounced outside the Tropics. Less so inside the Tropical Zone.
The Tropics are the limits of the suns movements across the planets skies. And the equator, between the Tropics is the hottest place. Hotter than hell. Hot as the Sun. Hot as the heat of…you?
I have always imagined that the sun never travels beyond us: between us lies the hottest place. But for this to occur, WE have to be there. Here. Together. Beyond us; nothing…
I dreamed that. So wanted you in my life all my life, Dona Pescada de la Strella – my Star Fish. And then you arrived...
And then your red dress was a red flag all the way down to Prahia Morrungulu - a challenge to this goat,
Like a bullfighter, taunting the Bull This capricio on your Barca de Fantasia, as we wind down hot
sandy roads, as hot and paleomorphic as your skin, and out onto a hot sandy beach where you could
have your “Tropic of Cancer” flooded by the equatorial heat that flowed out of me and into you
the “glue that bound us together”.
And finally a siesta on the beach, drowsing while you speak of days and ways and A wiser “Snake in the Garden” sim sereno es suspenso volvir
“Quando mais loco, Dona?”
You were gold – like the sand
You shimmered molten,
like the sand
Liquid and squirming
- like the Sand
Of all that I survey
Flesh in every direction
that I feel
…..all there is,
flesh
flesh is all
And I am Master
Of her
Flesh.
Bacarolle
Wonderous night – o night of love
Smile upon our intoxication
Night that’s softer than the day
O wonderous night of love
Time is fleeting and takes away
The passions that possess us
Far from this enchanted place
Will it ever return.
We just want to feel
real love
there is a special place in my soul
that has been left there since that
summer garden under your bedroom window...
“Hey have you ever tried,
Really reaching out for the other side?
I maybe climbing on rainbows
But, baby here goes.
Dreams there for those who sleep,
Life is for us to keep,
And if you're wond'ring
What this song is leading to
I want to make it with you
>>>>
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