Nice cool breeze flows
quietly through the bathroom window, drifts past our bed and smoothly wanders out the open sliding glass door onto the balcony. Over the wall,
rustling the green leafs of the tree that stands guard outside lifting it skinny arms towards heaven like an old Indian praying to the yellow moon high above our world.
On the bright laptop, I see photos I took over two years ago while spending Christmas in Eagle Pass.
Cuco Sanchez sings in my ear, a sad
ballad about a man with a broken heart.
Mocedades follows with their song imploring their love to "take them or leave them". The rest of the world's sounds blocked out by the head phones on my ears. A long thin wire attaches them to my MP3 player loaded with over 2000 songs from years ago.
My world right now is made up of artificial light and
artificial sounds. The only thing connecting me to the actual world is the cool silky feel of that silent breeze. It glides slowly over my skin, gently pushing against the small, thin hairs on my arms. The cool sensation causes the hairs to stand up, creating a landscape of goose bumps across the surface of my arms. Small shadows created by the white light from the screen gives the skin the
appearance of rough, raspy texture.
The bright glare of the screen floods out all other shapes in the dark bed room. Only the keys, may hands and the arms attached to them are visible. My fingers move up and down touching each key, pressing down, making the letters appear on that screen.
My
eyes lids narrow, my eyes blink to refocus on the images, pictures... words. Pictures from over two years ago... in Eagle Pass... an old old song starts up. Agustin Ramirez sings now to a lover who's death he morns. The horn section comes through, dating the song to the early 70's. Chicano songs.
Light tapping on the bed, like a finger striking the side of the mattress... nothing visible. A slight pulling of the sheets... still nothing visible. I remove my headphones. An
audible whimper, a small cry, like a puppy in pain... My eyes adjust to the darkness. A small black figure
begins to form. Another
whimper, the black figure becomes familiar, something I have seen before... A dog name Fifi. She can't talk, but I have known here for 11 years. We can understand each other well. I will end this post, she wants to go out. Nature calls.
On the bright laptop, I see photos I took over two years ago while spending Christmas in Eagle Pass. Cuco Sanchez sings in my ear, a sad ballad about a man with a broken heart. Mocedades follows with their song imploring their love to "take them or leave them". The rest of the world's sounds blocked out by the head phones on my ears. A long thin wire attaches them to my MP3 player loaded with over 2000 songs from years ago.
My world right now is made up of artificial light and artificial sounds. The only thing connecting me to the actual world is the cool silky feel of that silent breeze. It glides slowly over my skin, gently pushing against the small, thin hairs on my arms. The cool sensation causes the hairs to stand up, creating a landscape of goose bumps across the surface of my arms. Small shadows created by the white light from the screen gives the skin the appearance of rough, raspy texture.
The bright glare of the screen floods out all other shapes in the dark bed room. Only the keys, may hands and the arms attached to them are visible. My fingers move up and down touching each key, pressing down, making the letters appear on that screen.
My eyes lids narrow, my eyes blink to refocus on the images, pictures... words. Pictures from over two years ago... in Eagle Pass... an old old song starts up. Agustin Ramirez sings now to a lover who's death he morns. The horn section comes through, dating the song to the early 70's. Chicano songs.
Light tapping on the bed, like a finger striking the side of the mattress... nothing visible. A slight pulling of the sheets... still nothing visible. I remove my headphones. An audible whimper, a small cry, like a puppy in pain... My eyes adjust to the darkness. A small black figure begins to form. Another whimper, the black figure becomes familiar, something I have seen before... A dog name Fifi. She can't talk, but I have known here for 11 years. We can understand each other well. I will end this post, she wants to go out. Nature calls.
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