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March 05, 2006

Green

Green

I've been checking the grass. Green. Up to where it's blue, blurred and foggy. Lightnings strike in couples on the distant little trees. I've been here for a while, can’t remember since when. There's a large pale rock I'm sitting on that's giving me a cold and a headache that's like a rainbow and a gift. Starring at the grass the landscape changes. It's not all green. The blue is almost white. Sometimes thru the fog I can see a house.

When I get far enough from my rock I can see a tree that's right between base and the horizon. It's a skunk olive tree, burnt down to its roots, praying for resurrection someday. A tiny young branch grows right perpendicular to the floor. The base is very large. I can sit on it comfortably and it gives me relaxation. When it gets dark the ghosts push me back to base.

I can't see her but I can hear her voice clearly. She gets out early when the sun is low and sits outside on the grass, by the house. From the voice I can figure her face, her many layers of expression, her anger and smiles, like dunes constantly changing and getting deeper and then skin deep, casual, ironic, deranged, tired, sleepy. Then the door bangs, around noon and I'm alone again.

Around base is littered with cans, papers, dead birds and skeletons of cars I’ve never seen before. I haven’t got any food in a while. Chasing overflying birds is useless but I feel fine. I miss my brother, my job routine, cigarettes and sex.

Every time I wake up I check the grass. Green. Up to where I get dizzy. I focus on a bush that's slightly taller and start walking. I stop at the tree to check the progress. Disappointing how slow nature is at its business. Then I start playing fingertips.

Half a world away the chords in her tongue are Japanese, Korean, beautiful.

One day it rained all day. I was shaking. I could not move but I could hear her conversation. Lonely, coming down like hail, broken in my eardrums, refracted and shy. That day I talked to her. Loud as I could. We started dueting, something between Jap and French, ice-cream and Chanel commercials as far as I recall.

One day I'll learn all the truth, complete.

© Fortunato Caragliano. All rights reserved.

Posted by lck at March 5, 2006 01:08 AM