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August 07, 2005
Flares - dead engine
Four young men dancing in their tight white after each song double high-five, throw signs, slap each other's backs, and hug. They shrug, laugh, turn their faces back to the spotlights. Up one row and over five seats, a single, bespectacled woman waves her arms with the frenzy of a sign language interpreter. People snicker at her.
I have no trouble believing her joy but is it that simple?
She’s building onto this house, following the blueprint she has selected, discovering the dream in the cracks of the one before. I'll enter your house, dance in it, learn from it. Bliss requires more concentration.
Did you see flares?
I see fireworks.
No, flares, like a nova flare or a flicker, over the hill, a flambeau.
Like popcorn flambeau?
Yep. Did you ever have popcorn flambeau?
Yes. And if you had a barbecue that worked... I see the lake, the long silver strip and tiny fireworks over the village coastline, red and yellow.
Yes, you’re right. I’ll get a barbecue, I guess. I always get soooo tired.
Are you happy? How’s your life now?
Red is coming back, as you know. The house will populate with her drawings and friends and even on wheels she’ll shake. I’ll be mostly in and out baby-sitting Circus, be a Mogul, passing stickies and phoning agents and castles on the shore with the boys, then sleep. And do crossword puzzles with a cute app. We’ll talk and she’ll entertain all with her special Savoury Liver and Bacon and Spaghetti Sauce to explain which is like getting String Theory right on a couple Burger King’s napkins. I never assume I’m too old for anything… another beer?
Oh yes, please. Is Red going to walk ever again?
They don’t know. Red is so comfy in her static fancy state and uninterested in the comeback to everyday life. She says she feels “resplendent”, that’s the term she uses. Frank, how do you like the house?
The place is magnificent, partition is nice and the terrazza is huge, can see everything and the small fishermen moving on the docks and playing cards. It’s almost a poste de garde. I like humming over a glass of Porto, counting the wine racks waiting for the night lights to pop one at the time.
What a romic! You should come back in a week, blue eyes, when I’ll have Tylenol to cure you pains!
In the meantime a cold beer can cure that, can it? It was a stressful week.
Oh, you can tell. I’m all wrinkly and sleepy. We deserve all the crimpling rounds from our starring role. Are you celebrating again?
When I can, of course, and every time before sleep. Then every time I see a little lizard starring at me from the edge of the can.
Smiling and doing the things I want to in so many ways and so many ways to talk, where does one begin? I've been unreasonably tired these days and any number of vaguely productive activities that the human body requires, a variety of exercise and I'd make for the gym. Strange how I work out differently in a gym and when I'm doing it outdoors. Red can't believe I've joined a club full of gay men, not when there was another newer one down the street that catered more specifically to a female clientele. It didn't appeal to me. Feel like everyday is just so cool, I know I'm not writing very much, there are so many stories to tell, but so much to learn.
Three men sketched in the background quickly read into life. The girl is the village beauty and the troublemaker, playing off men against one another and leaving behind angry folks in her wake.
We need more sugar cubes. Frank, would you please help my pony?
On the way down the line, if you've got the money.
When I’m back we're wearing sunglasses indoors. Guests are playing with the profile of hills and the discernible human activities to and from the boats and cars stopping at the bars and skipping, the geckos staring glamorous in the dark from the low ceilings.
Frank, are we going to square-dance?
We are going to Mars and we are going to Heaven.
Yes!
© Fortunato Caragliano
Posted by lck at August 7, 2005 12:47 AM
