05.26.12

Timeless memory
Finally came walking alone. Started fast with a possibility of changing my route in a timid attempt of breaking the rule.
I did it. What the heck. Half hour was agreed so the route could be any.
So I wondered about walking the other side of the road.
Crossed two freeway entrances, then I saw a little of a persecution. That was what I wanted to see, my way to interpret a typical 911 call.
Two police cars in front, two ambulances in the middle, and two more police cars behind.
Kept walking as fast as I could, avoiding the peak of the time.
 Still got time and was thinking to write in an urge to do something meaningful with my ephemeral ideas.
Promised myself to cut procrastination. Cut cigarettes, Facebook, food, sitting my but. Now gotta do my book.
So I was thinking of people's perception while watching me walking: someone frightful, someone atypical, perhaps exotic.
A terrorist or a mild criminal at least.
Definitively not a neighbor. Not even the prolific Indians and Pakistanis. Not even a F**ing Latin. No. Something worse.
A freak. But not a prosaic emo. Not the unadapted teenager. Someone threatening. Anyway, I was thinking about overcome my limit,
but I ain't wanted to push my luck at the first hit.
Wanted to think about a karmic praise for my honesty.
Started feeling sensations life and reality for the first time in four slavish years I've been at Michigan.
Was aware of the birds, the smell of grass and flowers. Then the colors of those flowers, the contrasts, white and green mostly.
Then perceived other pleasant details: The field's depth, that I was in fact walking over a bridge on a memorial day Saturday.
Cars and vans were loaded with desperate men, enthusiastic children, and the hope of riding the boats and bicycles as far as hell.
Then I smelt some increasingly sophistication of fragrances courtesy of mother nature.
I even allowed myself to wonder about getting farther, but I was stopped by the thought of the past,
that I needed maybe a man way more active than me, then I thought about the repercussions of having someone like that,
a perfect man? not even closer, must be way dumber than I am, way more naive and stupid, way healthier too, but still stupid.
I would have to sacrificed my eager pessimism, my intellectual appeal in exchange of ravishing sex after long bicycle strolls.
Every day I think i said. But still sunk in the oblivion. Then  I started thinking about a guy I met that matches that profile and there he was,
with his ideal woman, a dumb gringo, very precise for him , and my response for why didn't I got I guy like that.
Then my expectations fell to the next prospect, not so bad in shape, but with a bold stunk, a heavy psychotic load and an devilish magnetism
reduced to a pair of black glass frames, irritating hair length, and a huge baggage of obscure mystery behind his intriguing figure.
Then the smells reached a peak of density for an ineffable moment until i found myself closer home, then suddenly the smells turned fragile and diffuse,
distant, weak. The closer I got to the suffocating truth, the flower faded into aseptic chlorine from the sterilized pool,
where nobody dare to have any kind of fun. Nothing to do with the pond where occasional lovers in their frugal and nocturne encounters take place.
Nothing like the smell of their sweats melted with mud, fish, humidity, and hot soiled soul blend took arouse of their earth made bodies.
Just acid moms in their salty alkaline smell, in their never changing faces, the flowers overpowered by pesticides and sanitizer,
the soil without seeds, the transgenic
scenario. Not even the possibility of saving the glory of the past 30 minutes of living, because I chose a life in which moments like that happen in days like this,
and the only proof of their existence is telling myself in this file that it was not fiction and that of course, there is more.