27 April 2008

The Mormon Hills

And the sun filtered through the tree tops, streaking the ground with shade. And the warm wind blew on my face, my hair into gentle curly ruffles. Your mediterranean surroundings, in the middle of nowhere right in our city. And the garden shed, with all your vehicles surrounded by white pebbles. You brought me to the middle of Mormon land.

With orange trees dotting the landscape, over looked by a mountain of fir trees. The beige carpet of dead grass and rotten orange fruit. And green roses caving the ratan swing on the porche, your dogs circling the area, their tongues wagging. The heat in the air, the bright sun and here in the dark I look out and find that there is much beauty in a world like this. I do not care to judge myself, or you for what we have become. I only know that what is wrong, may some times be right, when a heart or two needs a mend.

I know that you or this place that I embrace with extreme love, may turn into a prism of light fading into the sunset. But while I sip on the pretty drink you fixed, I smile and lick the sweetness off my lips and look at you looking at me, with just but one question on your mind.
You ask, " Do you like the drink?"

To which I nod, turn the swing away from your face and look back out into the hills. And you, knowing you've intruded, retreat, calling out to the rest of us, the people that made this happen, yelling that the food is done. I can hear you think, " She's got too much ego."

And I smile because I don't, only I make you think so. Only to protect myself from what you are to me. A train that I've jumped onto, that is to take me away from the place I dare not think of. A life of care free, emotionless love. Where just your body and mine, satisfy us. And when I challege you to calling me a whore, much later, when the sun's gone and your sky is dotted with the stars and that beautiful full moon, you throw your palm across my face, in anger. Though I feel the sting of your slap, I can't sense anger in me. Only I know, that my body isn't here, where you are now. But I ask, mimicking anger in my voice, n my face, "What the fuck, you cant slap me." And you shrug, reaching out for another drink.

I cant read your body or your eyes so blank. I can't tell what your thinking, your out of my league. And then you say, evenly with no other forms to read a reason out of your action,"That's the second time your asking, and I think that answers the question."

And you walk away, looking for the battery lights. No power. And when you come back, we kiss. We talk so less, we are so little. While we dance with our lips, I feel remorse. Incorrect. I feel nothing, but your lips on mine. And your arms around my hip, pulling me close. And then you lift me up, so I have my legs circled around you, and my chest pressed against you. Your hand in my hair, mine in yours. And we kiss. And she wails, the other one. She cries tears for the one that she's already lost.

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