2005-02-20

Deseos y Detalles

It feels like one of those lazy afternoons. I think I'll work on finishing the editing for Al's book tonight, as well as the outline for my formalist approach to "The Waste Land".

On my desk lay small mementos from when we went to the National Gallery of Canada/Musee des beaux-arts du Canada. We saw a Pollock, and I squeezed Alie's hand as I explained to him my fascination with Pollock. My eyes lit up when we walked into the hallway with all the major impressionists: Monet, Renoire, Cezanne, Pissarro...

The fountain was quiet, and our lips met to the gentle sound of dripping, dancing water. And I said, "I wonder if I can make my pennies skip on water..."

Taking a penny out of my coin-purse, I threw it, making it skip three skips. Al's glided and skipped twice: two long, elegant skips 'til reaching the end-corner of the rectangular fountain.

We walked amidst the muffled sounds of voices and heavy-academia-smell of the gallery, and I look up, just to see. I squeeze his hand. Looking down, he smiles...and I'm happy.

We sit in front of a Picasso: my chin rests on his shoulder as I gently and lightly rub the tip of my nose on his neck, and he takes my hand and kisses it softly. I suddenly recall how we'd made love that white morning...

The nude, graceful movements move to the beautiful rhythm of Meu Querido Meu Velho, Mi Amigo by Roberto Carlos...I recall his fingertips resting on my waist while my fingers run through his hair, and we dance--lost, that we are--to the soft, romantic 50s Brazilian song.

Mirando tus cabellos, tan bonitos...
abro el corazon y digo: meu querido meu velho, mi amigo...

Putting my lips up to his ear, I lightly sing to the song...

Quiero ser tu cancion desde principio al fin, quiero rosarme en tus lavios y ser tu garmin...

Ser el jabon que se suaviza el bano que te bana, la toalla que deslizas por tu piel mojada...

aeka at 4:39 p.m.