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BLIND WAY STREET

  • FRIDAY

    Leaning over the car, I patiently stood still and  waited on the driver’s side for her to unlock the door: stray dog expecting treat from a stranger. That’s how it felt.

    It rained. Water streamed down my hair behind the collar, down my back. I was getting soaked to the bone, irritated. When I parked, I almost scratched her sexy Japanese car, which she awkwardly parked across my driveway. ‘Women’ ran through my mind.
    I grabbed the door handle and pulle    d it hard, still locked firm. She, innocently raised her eyes, smiled with a grim of irony, as if stalling on purpose. Unhurriedly, with her right hand  threw few trinkets into her leather, red purse, glanced at me again, and instead of unlocking the door, slid the window down.
    -How can I help you?
    Somehow her face beam    ed through the wall of rain,  wonderfully flaxen hair flowing down her shoulders, the greenest of eyes of a Goddess.
    Jesus, she was far more than I expected. Adrian was right. Beautiful, fabulously beautiful.
    Chemistry, blind lust or whatever it is, which provokes conquest, it struck me this feeling of desire, uncontrolled wave of passion, the sudden image of a woman soon to be absolutely in your hands, under your command,  but then you sense she is equally surprised, unable to hide her curiosity. Street, let’s name that street: Blind Way Street suddenly opens up for you and soon locks into spontaneity and frenzy of intimate acts of two people.
    Finally she reached out through the car window and pulled me gently in by the jacket, like someone looking for protection, warmth, someone running into safety and familiarity . For a long time, I have not seen such a joy and longing in a woman’s eyes upon seeing me. 
    I put the lotion and condoms on the car’s roof, leaned inside as she expected, and opened the door from the inside, grabbed her by arm like a hunted and neutralized animal to touch it at first and then smell it along with the smell of power over a weaker and defenseless victim. I wanted to feel with my hands her body and mix it with mine, to tame her temper while getting her
    acquainted with the rain and me.
    -How long did you wait?” I asked.
    -Fifteen minutes. Next time I won’t.
    She hesitated – Well, I lied, I’ll wait. Try to never do it again.
    She cuddled in my arms gently and looked over my shoulder somewhere far away, gently rested her cheek on it, and casually kissed my wet neck, pinched and brushed my skin with her lips. We were charmed by each other from the first sight and wondered where it may lead us, that new Blind Way Street we discovered.
     –If I knew how beautiful you were, I wouldn’t let you wait. I’m seriously depraved.
     – Lie, lie, lie. Not a good start.
     –I would.
     – Don’t tell me you bought a rabbit in a poke?” she whispered in my ear pushing her knee in between my thighs and heavily hanging her arms on my neck.
     -You say ‘pig in a poke’ – I corrected and whispered –No. Adrian told me nothing about you-
     I let her slide her knee deeper but she changed the whole direction.
     –Do you have the money? I am soaked. Are we going anywhere?
     I waited for these words.
     –Not just yet. Let’s get used to rain. Chicago is crying.
    – Why?
    – Wild onion does it to you.
     She fell silent, not understanding, closed her eyes for a moment so I slid down my hands touching her buttocks, fingers crawling to the warmest spot.
     She leaned her head over my shoulder, bit me this time and said
    – Let the show begin.     I’m wet.
     I disentangled and realized with astonishment that she does not wear any makeup on her face. Such a noble and beautiful woman waited for money without a word as if not interested. I took out three hundred dollar bills from my back pocket, placed it in her hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. I was surprised she did not count or even looked at it.
     –I bought wine, a few different kinds. At home, I drink whiskey with cola only.
     –I do not drink at work- she took a step back.
    – I have you, man- then pushed me away with     a mock contempt and ironic smile again, took initiative and  scooped the cream and condoms from the car’s roof into her purse and looked at me defiantly.
     –So, what’s your name, Client?
     –Robert
     –I heard that, but tell me the real one.
     –What does it matter, honey?
     –It doesn’t, honey- she replied. In fact I know everything about you.
     She started searching my pockets,  took out the keys from my jacket while handing me her purse at the same time.
    – Red like your lips.
    – No. My lips are pink.     Follow your instincts, Bob.
    She unlocked the door and walked into my life.
    ***
    When she entered the shower, I imagined her to be my wife; still loved, still desired, close in every aspect of being together. Everything given, everything taken and everything exchanged. I never had a wife, but chemistry brought in this day-dream of a daily partner in sex and its all fantasies. Complete comfort as sweet as sight of her naked body.
    After a while she noticed the toys.
    -Rob, the second one won’t work for me.
    Her Czech accent was disarming. I did not even think about the sad consequences of her words for my most recent day-dream.
    -Well, maybe we’ll make up for it somehow- she sighed and smiled with her lips, eyes, all of her body. She charmed me into a trance but for cruel fun woke me up without mercy immediately.
    -Hurry up or you may regret it. I never stay for another hour.
    -Sorry Boss, It’s going to change.
    –Nope.
    -We shall see.
    -You shall see by yourself because in an hour I’ll be gone. In forty five minutes, to be exact-
    She set the water in the shower on really hot.
    -Is your watch waterproof? – She tried to take it off.
    -I do not have any other- I said.
    -Wrong answer Mr. Diver, but let it be. It may scratch me.
    When she unhooked strap from my wrist,  I took hold of her elbow and turned her around, started kissing her back, while fingers gently unfolded her secrets below. Slightly bending her legs she was searching for me with one hand, while the other she grabbed and pressed its palm against her breasts.
    When she realized how ready I was, she turned abruptly, straightening up,
    brushing my hair from my forehead, and looking into my eyes. She was searching for more than just lust.
    -This is not me, but take it -she whispered, hesitated, wanted to say more, but the tide came and carried us away.
    I bent her body and lay her down in a marble bathtub, turned on all the jets, and lubricated her belly and thighs with lotion, which caused me to be late as I had to buy it.  I loved that particular herbal scent since childhood.
    She closed her eyelids and hummed some Czech song I didn’t understand except for few words. Birds and sky. After a while, she raised her head, looked at me with squinted eyes, and said with the reproach of a little girl, while moving her face away from a stream of
    water:
    -Forty minutes, sir.
    We both laughed. She began filling her mouth with water and spitting stream on my face. Enough. I parted her lips with my hand moving it hard. She moaned and lifted herself on elbows moving away from my force, wanted to say something, but I did not let her. I stretched my body and made a slave out of her by filling her mouth, holding her head in a rhythm of my movements. She took me in with such fervor that it overwhelmed me. In just a moment she gained control and it was her game of now of domination and control.
    I let her be mine, my momentary whole world for a ridiculously low price. It did come, the sorrow, later. I should have just listened and watch. Listen while standing in the rain with her in my arms. God gave us two ears and two eyes, only one mouth. We try to talk over what we see and hear, often over what we feel. I should have only listened to her heart. God damn money gave me the illusion that I didn’t have to. 

    15 YEARS LATER

    The dog stank badly, but the mellow scent or the view of an old fur did not bother me. His enormity seemed unnatural. He lied down at the flip-flops with my toes sticking out of them, and I wondered if he is going to bite off one or both of my legs at once. Instead, the dog laid flat on a Mexican tile floor and without raising his head patiently looked into my eyes, as if wanting to x-ray my character. I tried to neutralize his effort by lulling him up with the look of a casual tourist but to no avail.
    With every torn piece of conversation coming from the kitchen, or with a tangle of plates, his ears turned away from me, lifting up the heavy fog of our séance, but soon to return to the previous state of “maybe the guy at a table will say something.” I was silent, however. Maybe timid.  Probably just taking in space, breathing its air . The terrace of this legendary breakfast joint with a cow-sized dog stood on a slope so high that the jungle below seemed to grow on another, unpenetrated planet and to end with oceanic cosmos, as far as the eye could reach and beyond sight. Clouds in the sky played on ocean’s surface whole symphony of all possible shades of blue, turquoise, green and gray. In this blissful mystical symphony of colors the dog moved as a  girl came out of the kitchen with a plate and a cup. Seemed chaotic or just overburdened, flawlessly managed to get to my table.
    She was about thirty, beautifully matured with all of her  still youth looks sloppily on display. She carried my “Italian beef” meal, which I ordered at the cook’s recommendation. She side-stepped the animal on the floor, like a heap made of dog, set the dishes down, and moved my camera and other junk dangerously close to the table’s edge, asked if everything was OK.  The “dog-terrorist”, now alert and attentive, was not included in that question, but something dawned on her when I turned my eyes from her to him.
    -oh, Max, sorry, you do not have to give him anything. He gets his food in two hours.
    She turned and disappeared behind the bamboo curtain. I did not talk to anyone for two days and another chance was lost. Max stayed by me but she went away as quickly as she came, even though I was the only customer. Seven-thirty in the morning. Blissful beginning of a day somewhere half way between Kona and Hilo on Big Island. I looked around the empty
    space and infallibly found the eyes of my watchman companion.
    -You like beef, don’t you , Max?”
    Silence.
    I exclaimed: “DO  …  YOU …   LIKE … BEEF?”
    Max seemed to suspect sudden twist of events, like falling of the sky.
    -BEEF, anybody…want beef?  before you chop of my toes?
    Max sprang into action and excited began to dance on his forepaws, making an attempt at barking but his vocal cords apparently stuck to his oversized stomach. I cooled his enthusiasm and for a moment looked at the ocean far above the mountain of dog. I played with my camera zooming on some points on the coast, roofs of houses, rock formations, and coral reefs at
    which the waves were crushing before calming down on the lofty beach. Among the lush greenery, there was a strip of twisting, unpaved road on which emerged, and slowly, laboriously, as if climbing, moved an old jeep, bouncing up and down. It was surrounded by clouds of dust and distant noise. The road ended somewhere near the rocky bay, where only rare and twisted palms grew, looking like broomsticks stuck upside down, shattered by wind.
    Yes. Paradise. I began unwrapping my sandwich. By that time Max became a complete prostitute. He licked and sniffed my flip-flops. I took out the beef and began teaching him to “plead” in Polish. He danced, Max The Cow, turned on greedy appetite and was loudly smacking his tongue. I pulled him by hair and ears when the waitress peaked from behind the straw curtain:
    -Do not give him lettuce, or he will vomit-
    and disappeared inside the kitchen as quickly as she appeared.
     -Farce- I murmured. The owners talked me into a beef sandwich to feed their dog.
    In the kitchen, they were talking to each other in German, while I was trying to communicate in Polish with a German or Hawaiian dog,  planning in my head the next day already. The waitress came in wiping her wet hands on her apron., took Max by the collar and forcefully led him behind the screen and on the other side of the fence.
    I thought ‘Monster kennel and long legged princess living in perfect harmony. Fantastic’
    She came back and sat beside me.
    -Where are you from?
    -I almost forgot, and you?
    -From Dresden, Germany. And in what language did you speak to Max?
    -Polish.
    – I thought so. But you are not from Poland, are you?
    – I live in Chicago….for a long time now.
    -I thought some California surfer lost grip on reality and flew to the wrong shore on the wrong island. Will you be back tomorrow?
    -Why?
    – We have Kālua pork for lunch tomorrow. A local guy cooks it with us once a  month. It is like a family gathering.
    -That’s my only chance then. I will be around for fourteen days. Maybe twenty.
    -Normally, we are opening at nine, but I told the chef that you’re probably lost
    and he made you a sandwich early. We lock Max at nine o’clock when we open.. You didn’t have to give him anything. At least you have a true friend on this island, which isn’t easy.

    Max whimpered in a distance as if sensing being mentioned.
    – Maybe he’ll go down to the beach with me?
    – I am not sure you should go there. They do not like tourists here, I mean visitors. They did not pave the road on purpose to prevent strangers from venturing there, no rental cars are allowed.
    -What should I do then?
    -Relax. Go see volcanoes. Are you alone?
    -Does Max count?
    She laughed and got up from the table.
    -Too early for him and they need me in the kitchen, and you, if go to that beach, be careful. It’s a hidden treasure. Full of fish. Sharks frequent here but if someone bothers you mention you are friend of Rudi. I am local by now. Do you want me to wrap the rest of your sandwich?-
    – Does Max like wrappings?
    – He doesn’t care. It is all food to him. I must go.
    She left, coffee was delicious: not even slightly sour or bitter with a thick nutty aroma. It would be a crime to add sugar or cream to it. I sipped it slowly while collecting thoughts about promise of another day by myself and left too. Max, of course, hid from the sun under my car. His head as big as a tire. I gave him the rest of the sandwich to get him kindly from under lifted jeep and I jumped in.
    My new friend sniffed the coffee but stepped back, letting me know that it was legally mine. Both of us still hungry we understood it is time to part ways.
    Max went back to his job of a holy cow in a breakfast joint, I went back to being lost on an island. 

    FRIDAY
    We rested on dump sheets. It bothered me that she was clinging to me. My desire left early. She had orgasms with a vibrator in the shower and later with me in bed. She muffled her sketchy emotions. The batteries got wet, vibrator didn’t work and my hand was getting numb it took so long for her to come but she enjoyed it. On the other hand  my orgasm was superficial, and
    although I did with her all I fantasized about when I was returning from the store, I could not get over the thought that other men have her, as I do today. A condom is a nightmare, and she is a mere slut, why then is she ashamed of having an orgasm? Professionalism? Doesn’t professionalism in her craft mean to pretend orgasm to get it over with?
    However, I felt an unbelievingly beautiful, delicate plant withering and falling on me.
    This is the last time. I promised myself. Never again. God, how can you let such beautiful women do it for money? She should marry a multi-millionaire, live in a classy suburb with an  au-pair taking care of her kids.
    She was made for life with some rich dork sitting on five university diplomas, parrot with a  puffed chest, working for a large corporation. She would be a diamond in a family nest. Beautiful women have it so easy. All they have to do is to be beautiful. Yet this one goes to bed with a stranger for
    three hundred dollars. I felt disgusted but also regretful. That she does not care enough for herself. I felt a grudge for that fool, Adrian, that he talked me into it.
    -How much time do we have?
    -Not enough- she whispered without opening her eyes.
    -Where are your rules?-
    -I don’t have any-
    -You’ve had them two hours ago-
    -I’m a woman-
    -Aren’t you in a hurry to see a next client?-
    -No. I am sleeping off last night. I had an exam yesterday and I feel good now. Sleepy-
    -Do you have lots in common with Adrian?-
    -Only Spanish classes. Shut up already-
    I gently pushed her away.
    -Did you sleep with him?-
    -I’ve never slept with anyone. That’s how you should think. Kiss me on the lips-
    I kissed her on the forehead.
    -I bet no one kisses you on the forehead.”
    -Adrian does-
    -Did you sleep with him?-
    -No. I don’t love Adrian-
    I wanted to burst out laughing but stopped myself. Prostitute and love.
    -What is the meaning of love?
    – Shut up already.
    Without another word, she handed me a condom and soon I was in her again. She clung firmly, no games, hiding nothing, became a fruit opening itself and wanting to be eaten slowly. She was loving and waiting for the thrills of my body. She tried to kiss me on my lips, but just like in the shower, I avoided her mouth, performing a ritual on her with a great zeal and wild, wild love.
    She was a woman now, not a toy.
    Her blond hair blended with beige sheets and I could see only the green of her squinted , glittering eyes until she closed them slowly and made a groan for which I have waited the first and second time so desperately. She began to give me all the signals and I opened up, falling into a blissful abyss along with her. My body became part of her happiness. Her body became my only island. 
    15 YEARS LATER
    “Hey, where you from?” someone shouted.
    I napped, and the sun’s warmth turned into her warmth, the warmth of her memories. Now, the dream forgot itself awakened to the current reality, melted away, and the sand actually burned. I tried to
    look at the speaker, but eyes refused to obey.
    – Took wrong turn. Let me explain it to him-
    There were two of them. They stood near a pick-up that wasn’t here before.
    -I am waiting for Rudi- I answered.
    They did not like it.
    –Īlio wahine​​, sends all the whites from the place up there. You better get moving before others come-
    -I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to sleep- I yelled back, putting my head on the sand again and closing my eyes.
    I heard them approach closer until someone’s shadow covered my face.
    -I’m going to sleep-I repeated.
    -And I’m waiting for Rudi because it’s supposed to be  a fucking Paradise and don’t try to change that.
    -Where are you from?
    – Poland.
    – It is mainland?
    -No,  Europe.
    The shadow left my face. They took the fishing gear out from their truck and moved on. I heard a scrap of the heated phone conversation.
    -Are you coming or not?-
    A moment later they went over the rocks to the other end of the bay, where the water was much deeper and the angry, foamy waves splashed against the headland of the sandbank located farthest out into the ocean. I could not sleep anymore, even though I wanted my mind to run back to Marta: her thighs, buttocks, and to that mode when women obey for money. Wives, mistresses… for a time of course. Until they get bored, satisfied or they get what they wanted out of the material world. Money can be a magic wand for all conventions… for a time. Thus, prostitutes are for a time and time strictly limited. The prostitutes are nicer, more honest. I thought that if I had a wife, I would like to pay her for each act in order to always have
    sex without resistance, and without getting tired of myself. If it is impossible, why do I still want her, and why do my thoughts go back to her always?
    Looking at the ocean, the past was provoked. I asked questions for which there was no answer. I wanted her to burst into me suddenly animated, unyielding, like waves breaking onto the shore, with all that screaming and emotions till it made me dizzy and confused.  Back to Friday.
    In the end, I wanted to show her my favorite porn movie, but I only asked if she could come with a girlfriend.
    -Why? I am not enough? Because I did not want the other toy?
     she was nervous and upset.
    -What’s wrong? Do you need more problems than me?
    – I want her for you. I don’t have to touch her. I will simply share her with you-
    “If I do not want it, will you call me again?
    There was no point to hesitate
    – I will-
    -Then no- she said with a smile of triumph and vengeance.
    -Why are men obsessed with  the second hole or second woman?
    -I do not know. There is no more intimate place, total devotion, trust, domination, taking it all, descent from the ape? No idea.
    -You are crazy, Bob. Such a guy in such a beautiful house and you live alone-
    -How do you know?
    -I told you I knew everything and I see it. When did she move out?-
    -Yesterday-
    -Well, well. Do you want to cry now or later? She smiled:
    -Girlfriends are worse than wives. More expensive and more frightened.     Argue all the time. You need a ring or me.
    Saying this, she started dressing, and I had an impression that in her monologue had a hidden meaning, besides advertisement of the oldest profession in the world. I watched her slowly button her blouse, pull on stockings, reaching in her purse for a pack of chewing gum, and coming to kiss my lips.
    “Did you have a boyfriend for more than a day?” I asked
     -At least kiss me goodbye-
    -No-
    I pulled her close, so she won’t bother me. She clearly was sad, pulled away, looked me in the eyes, and repeated, –Kiss me, please-
    -Sorry but no-
    -You are right and you are wrong. Kiss me-
    -You gave me three hours. See how late it is-
    -I’ll give you five more minutes or all of life, which do you prefer?-
    I put my hands on her shoulders to make her understand that she was about to kneel. She did as I wished and took it between her lips, started the magic again. However, after a while, I came out, knelt
    down in front of her, kissed her on the lips, looked her in the eyes and said: –Never ask me for it if we are to see each other again-
    I got up and went to the bathroom to take a shower. I heard her car engine roaring to life and the entrance gate opening. Alone again. Released from a leash it was only Friday, bare and humble beginning. My heart was burning for more. 
    FRIDAY
    I copied Marta’s number into my phone from Adrian’s business card. His writing crooked like him. I listened to reggae music for a while, trying to get the vibe, called few clients, browsed thru photos on my phone. Her skiing,  swimming, sunbathing. I realized it was unfair to leave her without money:
    my woman X, my enigma who decided to become Ex yesterday . The consequences of her leaving me still did not get thru my thick skin. She slammed the door yesterday but returns were sweetest resurrections: the frosting on the cake. After each fight we were both looking forward to a day of making up. Also, at the critical moment of really tough last year, she was at my side and let me use all of her savings, even though she hardly knew me: some twenty thousand dollars, which kept me afloat thru the worst month. By now she probably spent it, living and feeling safe with me.
    I still had wet hair. It was cold and I wondered which of my accounts had money on it, but did not remember. I decided visit the bank where Elisabeth worked. She was a young American kid of Polish descent, a twenty one-year-old babe, who threw herself at me with all that barely mature sex appeal and the time was unfortunate as this Friday I was in a
    furious freedom mode and did not know how long this freedom or fury will last. Inside I was hoping that only for a short period of time and that at the end my devotion and concern for X , now Ex is going to melt her heart as usual. Good sex and gifts have always worked, but the fact is that recently there was less and less of both. Business replaced our intimacy, but the relationship was strong and sincere.
    I loved that Serb girl with all my heart. She was a magazine cover girl, many of my friends considered her the most beautiful women they have ever seen, especially Latinos. A “Playboy” photographer followed her for weeks pleading for a session but to no avail. They twice offered her photo sessions. She hated that. 
    I learned myself she has been very persistent in her decisions. Unbreakable moral backbone. Typical highlander as Serbs are.  That’s how she once persisted to be with me and now to part with me. She came with her Hungarian aunt on Thursday to extract from my home all of which bear her fragrance, all photos, cosmetics, books, flowers in pots. Now I am alone. It happened yesterday. When she was  leaving, I stood in front of the exit door and calmly asked her to reconsider, and if this is  a game, not to leave me alone for the weekend.
    -I’m tired too. I do not want mistakes, believe me.-
    -Move-
    – We don’t need that circus, let’s talk before it is too late-
    -Move-
    Tearfully, she looked into my eyes and went around me.
    Her aunt winked at me, trying to let me
    know that Branka will get over it. I knew it too but was pissed. So much headache and theater for nothing in the end. I knew that to avoid suffering and speed up separation time, I am going to lose it. I wanted to lose it this time.
    My misfortune was that I always had beautiful, the most beautiful women. Nothing drives mad more than empty walls with nails
    sticking out of them. She took our memories. I called Adrian.

    ***

    Branka was the only woman who literally raped me. She was my height, with an
    incredibly athletic body and so perfectly shaped that it was scary to show up with her on the beach. Men were salivating at her sight.
    Her sex appeal caused immediate desire. She
    radiated energy of Slavic deity and ferocity of Southern borderlands of Europe and the Near East.
    We’ve waited half a year in silence, watching if our relationship is going to end and when
    the moment came, it took us a week to end up in a hotel with a view of a lake and forest.
    It was summer, and I was undressing her slowly, hanging every piece of her clothing on
    the fan above our heads, and when she was naked, I sat in an armchair, still dressed,
    watching her abashment. I wanted her to understand that her beauty was a scepter of
    power over me, and to see in my eyes appreciation for the blessing of her beauty, the
    gratitude of her humble subject. I wrote her down in my memory for the future
    understood as eternity.
    We made love slowly for a couple of hours until sunset. Later, we went to the restaurant
    and asked for a window table. The young hostess was stunned at her sight, the manager
    even more so. There were no more window tables but the manager asked some family to
    vacate such table and to move to another, in order to make room for her. Unconsciously
    she evoked admiration from the surroundings. The whole dinner I tried to avoid eyes
    of an angry guy in a suit sitting with his wife and two daughters. I listened to the kindling
    of happiness tangled with champagne and was her fulfilling hope.
  • 14
    It was a burden from the very beginning. She was not an American woman living for the
    moment. She wanted it forever, immediately, and for sure.
    A year later I was determined to ask her for marry me.
    I mentioned the prenup. It was a bluff. I wanted her to sign a contract only to tear it up in
    front of her during the official engagement. It was to be a confession of faith, a test of
    maturity. She showed me her Balkan stupor, and I showed her Polish cold blood. A deadlock.
    We only shared determination.
    ***
    The bank was besieged by a crowd of immigrants with their weekly paychecks. I wanted
    to turn back, but saw Ela at her desk, waving me over. She wore a blue dress, orange
    cowboy boots, and wire glasses making her look like a young teacher. The glasses were
    supposed to make her older, instead, she looked childish.
    “What do ya want, yangsta?”
    “You and cash. It is a robbery.”
    “How much do you need Mister?”
    “Ten thousand.”
    The amount made an impression on her.
    “An interesting weekend in store, huh?”
    I knew her well and I did not waste my chance.
    “Without you, it won’t be so, just a ‘dead-end’without a smack.”
    She looked interested, sensing my coming assault.
    “I’ve asked you so many times. You are worse than fresh
    feminists from Poland,” I
    charged.
    “Be quiet and write a check. We shall see what can be done.”
    Every time I sat at her table, Ela’s female manager watched us. She was a woman of my
    age, but visibly tired. I smiled at her, but she turned her head away, so I looked at people
  • 15
    coming to the bank to cash their checks in order to send money to their families abroad.
    I remembered my beginnings when I did not have money for rent, food or gas. But every
    day I met and talked with multimillionaires who’ve had on their walls photos taken with
    Reagan and Bush, as well as David’s stars made out of gold, and in their bathroom 18th
    century icons stolen from Ukraine or Picasso. One wanted to fly me in his jet around the
    world, but once he opened his night robe behind me and it was a mistake. He was good
    only for
    homosexual conversation, nothing else. It was my next non-affair due to the
    exclusive love for women. Fortunately, the view from his windows was nice. A flight over
    Chicago with a kosher bird lost under a night robe.
    Ela came from behind.
    “Did you pray?”
    “For the money?” I asked.
    “No, for me, silly.”
    “I pray for you since half a year ago, honey.”
    “On your knees.”
    She handed me an envelope and sat at her desk.
    “Now, or this weekend won’t be interesting.”
    “Don’t provoke me, you know I’ll do it.”
    “Then, do it,” she shrugged as if it did not concern her. But she did not take her eyes off
    me, like a young owl.
    I laughed loudly, knelt beside the chair. For the second time on that day. She was
    stupefied.
    People began to turn in our direction amused or angry, depending on sex, race and
    vocation.
    “Will you call me tomorrow?” I asked.
    “When?” she asked.
    “Call at eleven o’clock.”
    “Only this time you answer, not like back then, her voice trailed slightly
  • 16
    She got up from her desk and went to the bathroom, leaving me like an idiot. The manager
    looked clearly annoyed. She shook her head, returned to the papers on her desk, but
    after a while looked up at me and froze. We understood each other without words. The
    youth and energy of a young buck excite. However, she seemed to say that she has
    more to offer.
    Ela regularly got flowers from her suitors, so in the bank, they were used to all kinds of
    circus and clowns. She was the only girl who had to keep a flower vase on her desk.
    15 YEARS LATER
    The sun was high. Its rays, perpendicular to the tense ocean, promised perfect visibility
    underwater. I went to the jeep for gear, which made it possible to walk on the bottom of
    the sea. It was an invention I could only dream about when I was young and diving in
    search of lost chains, pendants and change on the bottom of “Wisła” swimming pools in
    Warsaw. This is how my adventure with “ocean” began. It was one
    of the few wise works
    of communism in the Polish capital, after the city was leveled by the international cabal
    specializing in destruction of the old world and building of a new order. Now they
    destroy smarter, this fish has to rot from its head first. Since childhood, I have loved the water, its
    world, its distinctness, and its depth. Oceans offered an escape from the mundane. Last
    refuge of freedom in this world. I loved everything living in water and also my slowing
    heartbeat after immersion.
    Now I woke up for her.
    The beach was still empty, except for me and the Samoans on its other end. The
    colored patches of their silhouettes erupted from time to time between the volcanic
    rocks and blue water before disappearing again under the line of the horizon. The wind
    stopped and the air trembled, trying to give away the heat. The lazy waves brought to
    mind huge animals straining under the surface, slow and sleepy, laboriously making the
    ocean’s folds. I was ready for peace in this world because there was peace in me. I stood
    up, put the gear on my back, and slowly, watching each step, entered the ocean.
    Lava, dead corals, crustaceans – it was a thorny journey. Each foot, even in diving shoes,
    was exposed to their razors. Loaded with a belt and oxygen tank, it took me several
    minutes to reach the first chimneys lined with golden sand. l jumped into shoals of colorful
    fish, who immediately disappeared into the niches of the underwater rocks and corals,
    soon to appear on its other side through tunnels known only to them. I laid down first on
    my back at the bottom of one of the larger pools and watched the air blows moving to
    the surface and alluring the fish back. Their curiosity was stronger than fear. They
  • 17
    provided me with a performance filling me with astonishing and love for the element of
    water.
    After a while, some gobs emerged from the sand. I gently combed the bottom with my
    fingers, while they traced my movements and nipped at the whirling dustbin, one, two,
    three, a whole herd possessed by sudden symbiosis with me: a new monster on the sea
    bottom. It does not take long in the water for the small fish to realize that you are
    harmless and seek protection with you, while bigger fish circle around wondering who
    are you and why do you serve for nothing. Later, I went alongside of a dozen-foot high
    wall, looking at crevices for moraines, maybe a sleeping shark. Ocean current and
    shelves made this place an ideal refuge for little creatures hiding from the open water
    and from large and predatory ones. Around the bend there was a second pool, even
    larger. In the middle of it was manta ray. I laid down next to her and we watched each
    other without emotion, as if bored. I was pretending it, she was not. The fish feel the
    heartbeat and she knew I was not hunting. The eyes of sharks and manta rays are
    unbelievable. They read everything, every movement, look and fear in their narrow area
    of interest: safe or dangerous, edible or inedible.
    I was hoping for some dolphins to find their way here since the bottom was deeper,
    darker with a gap to the open ocean visible in a distance: mysterious, opaque, and
    hostile. At one point it seemed to me that out of the corner of my eye I saw a turtle, but it
    was a human being, a woman with fins and snorkeling googles, diving above me. She
    must have seen me dive only to reach the top surface of the reefs in between I was
    walking. I sat down on the bottom, taking the stone lying there, and watched her body
    outline against the sky. Water magnifies and supplements. As a result, she had large
    breasts and wide hips, but in spite of her “fullness”, she moved swiftly and efficiently like
    a pro.
    At times she looked in my direction, but kept her distance, the only fish in the water not
    curious about the clumsiest monster scouting the sea bottom. Looking at the sun tired
    my eyes and I turn them back on the reef, searching for something interesting in
    addition to parrotfish, despite their colors which are not found on any land animals.
    The land is not as rich and rainbows are overrated. Frogs in Honduras as well. And then I
    saw a turtle. He was sitting on a small chip of reef, like a statue on a pedestal, perfectly
    integrated with the surroundings. “Paramedics” ran their fins around to clean him up.
    Traffic, like at a busy intersection. I lifted the oxygen cylinder to check how much air is
    left. I had about thirty more minutes. I looked from where I came, memorizing the
    formations and thinking about my return by a slightly rising chimney that ended near
    the shore. The turtle, not disturbed by my presence, let me touch itself to help the
    “paramedics”. There is unbelievable peace at noon at the reef, a complete ceasefire, life
    is a fairy tale in slow motion and everyone behaves as a long-time neighbor, even without
    knowing each other. I was in a paradise. It was definitely one of the few pristine reefs
  • 18
    located so close to the shore, literally coming out of the ocean onto the beach in
    complete concealment by the conspiracy of local people.
    When the woman, unexpectedly grabbed my arm, I thought my heart would pop out. We
    looked at each other through goggles, and I could guess that it was Rudi. She had huge
    blue eyes, and even though water magnifies, they were really huge and blue, something I
    did not notice at the restaurant, consumed by hungry cow of the dog. Her natural look in
    a swimsuit made her an object of desire. Rudi looked at my surprise for a moment and
    then turned back toward the surface and air. She shattered the surface which was
    invisible until now, creating a shiny volcano of broken rays of light. Then she came back,
    get hold of my arm firmly and confidently. With her other hand she grabbed the belt on my
    hips. She sat down on the sea bottom and pointed to her lips. I took a deep breath and
    gave her the regulator. She inhaled watching the turtle. She put her mouth under his
    stretched head and let go of the bubbles. He opened his mouth as if to catch the air or
    maybe just glad for the massage she received from the babbles. I thought that if she
    would like to take more of my air, I leave the gear on the seafloor and swim with her to
    the shore. She must have known the currents. In the car, I had two additional tanks and
    all diving equipment. But as if reading my thoughts, Rudi took one more breath, showed
    me with her index finger tears streaming from eyes, and swam away. I looked after her
    as a predator, angry that such a juicy and almost naked would-be victim escaped.
    When I finally got myself out of the water, the beach was empty. The Samoans’ car was gone,
    but there were wider tire treads of another car leading to the water. She must have a
    good jeep to get so deeply on the beach. My jeep would not make it. She did not wait,
    though. However, the treads of her car did not go straight to the road, but slightly turned
    and almost touched my car. On its front was a message written in the dust by her finger,
    a phone number and words: “You were airsome” with four white shells left as quotation
    marks. She was cute. I felt hungry and tired. I took out the camping stove. I made tea out of
    water remaining in plastic bottles and ate the canned sprats along with mango. I was
    planning to ask her about accommodation nearby, because sleeping in a car last night
    was terrible, which is why I so carelessly fell asleep on the beach in the morning, getting
    sunburn. My skin was on fire and I was without fresh water to wash the seawater off. I
    pulled out a container with cream in hope that it was not empty, but it was. I put the
    shells inside the container and used the rest of my tea to wash the phone number from
    my car.
    SATURDAY
    Halfway down the stairs, I remembered. I went back to the kitchen and began to search
    drawers for the postcard with her number. It was already past noon, probably between
  • 19
    1 and 2 PM. I knew it from the light beam shining through the curtains and falling on the
    fireplace. Still tired, I told myself that I wanted to, but I did not. I wanted to go back to
    bed and sleep the rest of my life, which came to one day of stress resulting from Branka’s
    leaving. The desire for freedom, the most beautiful lie in the world, did not want to give
    up. I sat in a night robe near the kitchen island making music out of the tunes on phone
    buttons, still not certain if I should begin something, which I do not intend to bring to
    any logical conclusion. I knew she was waiting. She probably visited a hairdresser,
    polished her nails, and bought new underwear. New panties for a new guy. On one
    hand, you allow another being to mature and get wiser, but on the other hand, you use
    harm to do it. Her harm. And you have to stand aside and watch instead of reacting, or all
    that knowledge is doomed to failure. I put down the phone, pulled out of the fridge some
    carcass from a few days ago, went out onto the terrace and threw the leftovers into the
    river. The fish came slowly, careful at first. Then there was a circus. I like the circus, but not
    today. I went back to the bedroom to sleep. When I woke up, lanterns were on the outside.
    The noise coming from the nearby bridge ceased, and my emptiness and
    discouragement were disrupted by a phone.
    “Eighth in the evening, Mr. Bronski. How are we feeling?”
    “Ela, I’m sorry.”
    “I think I’ve got used to that you Poles from Poland don’t get civilized.”
    “How many have you known? You’re only nineteen.”
    “Father, mother’s brother, and now Bronski, a client from the bank who is a liar,” she
    clearly intended to provoke me to treat her with respect and my ‘I’m sorry” was not
    enough for her.
    “Okay. Be ready in half an hour,” I said.
    Silence in the handset. The bridge came to life again with the drone of the bus’s engine. I
    waited for the answer, knowing what it’s going to be.
    “I’m ready for ten and half hours and half an hour more does not suit my vision of
    Saturday evening, Mr. Bronski.”
    I did not expect it. But I love the confidence of young American women.
    “Ten minutes then?”
    “I’ll be waiting at Starbuck’s on the corner, but park behind. My sister works there in the
    evening. Do you want coffee?
    “Latte if you can, no sugar.”
  • 20
    “And you still have the money, Bronski? Because it costs, you know?”
    “I don’t, I deposited it on my girlfriend’s account. Invest in me. As a sign of goodwill and
    trust.
    “She was right to leave you.”
    “How do you know?”
    “Your partner is running around the city and babbling about it.”
    “See what a good man, now at least I have a chance to be with you.”
    “Dad, you have no chance,” but her voice betrayed that she was not as confident as she
    wanted to sound.
    “Mom, you know,” I parroted her “you know,” which was inflicted by some Bialystok-
    American accent. “Do not overdo it, latte, without sugar, in ten minutes.”
    I hung up without waiting for her. Half a year earlier, I left her suspended in the air when
    she was making whims, not yet nineteen. I planned to make a gift out of her for her
    “mature” birthday, but could not in good conscience manipulate her for half a year, and
    eventually, I completely forget about it. Now she let me take her off that suspension
    like a ripe fruit full of sunshine. I knew that today she is mine.
    I drank a bit of coffee so it would not overflow the cup. Ela looked like a dream of every
    man about a young woman. I asked her to sit in the backseat. She complied without a
    word thinking probably that we are going to pick up somebody else, but I drove only two
    streets from the cafe and parked on the road’s shoulder between the park and deserted
    school. I joined her in the back seat. I unbuttoned her jacket, a white ruffled shirt, slid
    her small breasts over her bra, and began to kiss them, literally swallowing them before
    she could react. Excitement took over her, but she managed to whisper, “Mr. Bronski,
    please, not in the car, please.”
    After a while, her fingers dug into my hair and drew my mouth to her breasts, neck,
    arms. I lifted her up forcibly, raised her dress, and put my tongue in through her panties,
    finally pushing the laces aside and feeling the taste of a young woman. The scent of her
    bath filled the car, driving me crazy. I moved my tongue back and forth, thrusting it into
    every place between her thighs and butt. She got wet and inert. I stopped. I wiped my
    lips. I kissed her flared eyelids and forehead. She was a dream and I was a dream. I
    brushed the hair away from her face, buttoned up her bra and shirt.
    “Madam, we’re going to dinner. Now we will be ourselves, mom.”
    Her eyes went foggy.
  • 21
    “Daddy, what’s daddy doing? And next time shave because you’re scratching.”
    With the back of her hand, she rubbed my cheek, looking from over her glasses for reactions
    on my face. Like a mature woman, full of reflection.
    Again, I lifted her and pulled her through between the seats so she can seat in front, but
    she hesitated and went clumsily only halfway. I grabbed her by the hips, stopped, and
    parted her buttocks with my tongue so hard, that I felt tension of her every muscle until
    her shoulders and head collapsed, as if she fainted. Suspended in midair she did not
    move, as if waiting for the judgment. I held her in suspense until she began to sob, then I
    let her go and got out of the car. The night sky calmed down, the planes pretended to be
    the stars, and I wanted us to recover, as if nothing happened and I only just now picked
    her up from the cafe. And it’s only now that we have something to say to each other as
    people do. But sophisticated talks about nothing with adult women in a young body tired
    me, so I had to skip it.
    Ela turned on the light and cleaned the mascara smeared by my kisses. She turned but
    did not see me in the dark. She switched off the light and pressed on the horn. Once,
    twice, and kept on pressing.
    Unhurriedly I got in, removed her hand from the horn, straightened my index finger, put
    it in the foam of my coffee, and into her mouth.
    “Don’t be noisy.”
    She swallowed my finger, pretending to be silly, “I won’t, daddy.”
    “But you will, Ela, you will.”
    15 YEARS LATER
    Her favorite saying was “No way”. I gained respect for the Serbs through her. A brave,
    and strong nation. Like Poles, they were for centuries attacked by their neighbors,
    furious dogs embittered against each other by bankers’ money, religion, and propaganda.
    In general, the nations of Europe can be divided into murderers and murderers. Serbs,
    Poles and the Irish belong to the latter category. She was infected with politics, even
    more so, since she lived in the United States when the CIA woke up Muslims in Bosnia
    and helped the Germans to enter the Balkans at the expense of Russia. She was moved
    by the bombing of Belgrade, the partition of Serbia, and the theft of Kosovo. I supported
    her when she cried at night, lying on her back and looking at the ceiling, longing for her
  • 22
    family. Earlier, for a year I kept sending to her office faxes with drawings. One was
    showing us on a dive with her halfway in shark’s jaw, while I was reaching out to her,
    and she saying, “No way, Robert”. The other one showed her skiing straight into the chasm,
    while I was reaching out to grab her, but she was of course was saying, “No way, Robert”.
    And finally, one with me carrying her dressed in a wedding gown through a doorstep,
    while she was saying, “No way, Robert”. And so on. I was chipping away the rock.
    Now, however, I could not help her. When she broke up with her boyfriend when he
    became a drug dealer, our fascination turned into madness. On the first date, I borrowed
    the latest model of Mercedes from a friend. But I did not know how to refuel it or pull up
    the coffee stands. She knew right away that it was not my car. She did not make any deal
    out of it. She pretended not to notice my clumsiness. She loved because she loved. She
    hated because she hated and there was no middle ground. Her world was black and
    white, and I just walked into the wonderful whiteness of her life. A week later, I had to
    fly to Michigan after the regatta, to bring food to sailors taking my boat back to Chicago
    and to pick up my friend’s car. I hired a small plane, which I flew most of the flight
    myself, without a license, while the instructor was telling her jokes in Polish and English,
    unable to take his eyes off her. For her, it was a new world. She was taken away from the
    stifled downtown nightclubs, where her boyfriend worked, and from her boring office.
    Suddenly she found herself sailing and now flying over the world she knew only from
    her car driving to work in traffic jams. Passenger jets fly too high and are too safe, but a
    small plane offers a real adventure of conquering space. You can turn back to look
    down at a mountain, house, animals, and to find yourself. She was twenty-six and
    wanted everything at once: home, children, beloved man, who will never look at another
    woman. I was sure I could help her out. Later I’ve had on my face her nails even for my
    innocent looks at other women. She was sensitive to it, and I was the worst possible
    heartache.
    Of course, on our way back, my friend’s car broke down in a shithole inhabited by the
    red-necks in what is the real America, the America beloved more than any other. First, a
    random farmer pulled our car with his tractor to a mechanic shop, and then disappeared
    into a forest wall leaving us in a clearing filled with small log cabins. Another world
    which charmed her. In the morning, we were in love with each other and her
    temperament made me older by ten years.
    ***
    The road I traveled wandered through the jungle. I had to be careful. Memories stayed
    behind every bend and cliff. They were leaving. Misty Michigan, a foggy world.
  • 23
    Now she became one of many. Why? So unique and beautiful. Who gave me this right?
    Forget, and arrange, like toys. Impassively evaluate the past. She’s gone. “Pride comes
    before a fall.”
    Thinking about it, I turned off the highway near the ocean toward pineapple fields and
    saw sheds made out of twisted sheets of metal, boards, and partly fallen fences. A senior
    man sat in front of a house, smoking pipe. He did not pay me any attention. I got out of
    the car and walked toward a hole in a fence.
    „May I come in?”
    “Why?” the old man replied with a question, not looking at me.
    “I want to talk. I would like to sleep in my car till the morning and I will pay you if you let
    me park on your property.”
    “How much?”
    “Twenty?”
    “I do not have a bathroom, a toilet is in the back, a rainwater is there,” he pointed toward
    a blue plastic barrel. He looked at me, “Bring me money now.”–
    I returned to the car, took a bill, a pair of canned sprats, and biscuits.
    His face brightened at the sight of food.
    “Young man, you can stay even two nights, but it’s hell,” he scratched his head and
    somewhat embarrassed showed me where to park.
    It was getting dark. I did not get into discussions, just parked so in the morning the
    shadow of one of the buildings would fell on my car and far enough, so it won’t fall on
    me in case of a storm. I turned on the air conditioning for a moment and took out my
    sleeping bag. Grandpa with skin dry and transparent like a foil gave me a small paper
    package with marijuana, filled his pipe, and talked about his work, when he was a
    postman, how he got old and the government robbed him, the corrupted government.
    The paradise turned into hell because he bought land on the cheapest side of the
    island. We went to sleep, he in a barn on his plantation, and I on the backseat of my car.
    He took inside with him the bicycle which was standing by the door.
    SATURDAY
  • 24
    Saturday turned into Sunday. It was 2 AM. She woke me up to take her home. I was
    unconscious. The wine buzzed in my head and I remembered that the waiter in the
    restaurant urged me to take a cab. I regretted driving my car. Now, I would just call the
    yellow cab. By the way, he was a very good waiter, Greek in one of the Greek Town
    restaurants. And as I expected, he did not ask Ela for her age, but let me know that he
    knew, hoping for a bigger tip, which of course materialized two hours later. He clearly
    envied me but also gratified himself in our manly solidarity. He was of my age,
    handsome, and if it were not for his shepherd’s mustache, he would look like a man.
    At home, I changed the bedding to pink because beige smelled of Marta. Only a dozen or
    so hours passed and I saw again a woman who quickly pulled dress on her hips and
    buttoned up the blouse, searching for them between flounces in the twilight. Completely two
    different beings of the same sex, causing the same headache, but two separate tales. One
    was yours for money, in which case lust is building up and she cannot say ‘no’ because
    you pay for sex. The other only knows ‘no’, so that you explain to her that ‘no’ in this
    place means ‘yes,’ and she either pretends or does not understand, which is killing the
    lust. It’s good that the wine went to her head. In the end, she became like a cat walking
    on you, so you caress it, and now she says, “Take me home”.
    Her mother looked out of the window when we drove in. I did not like this
    neighborhood. I understood that for her the most fun was to drive in an expensive car
    and give herself to a man whom she likes in his expensive home, in a wonderful
    bedroom, in a better neighborhood than the one she lives in. She was a sweet donut all
    night and her girlishness stopped disturbing me at some point. We made love like an old
    marriage, without fancy and imagination, but I knew that next time it is going to be
    completely different. When she entered the house, I heard the raised voices of her and
    her mother. It was apparently one of those mothers who does not appreciate that the
    best thing that can happen to a young girl is a mature man who is going to place her in
    good hands instead of wasting her life for the years ahead. Older men do not fertilize
    blindly and treat them like treasure. Going home, I lit the rest of the cigar I kept in my
    car from vacation, opened the window, and tried to imagine my meeting with the Branka.
    I knew he would come back if only to talk, to see my loneliness and suffering. Her
    departure seemed real. She still had the keys to the house, but even if it was a game, I
    knew it would take a few days before she spoke, the earliest on Monday. It was not the
    first time she spent a night with her aunt. I have been going through this training from
    the very beginning. She used it from time to time, and I was glad that I could meet with
    those friends she did not like. She did not like all women. Driving through sleepy
    suburbs, I felt the urge to visit empty streets and explore. Illuminated bridges and
    underground tunnels are the biggest attractions of the city buried in darkness. And
    patrol cars, like traveling thru the country mini-carnivals for the poor. At four o’clock I
    was at home and called Poland to speak with my mother, but nobody answered. I left a
    message, went out with a bottle of wine on the terrace to watch the river which stood
    motionless as if waiting until I suspend my gaze in such a way that she will move on
  • 25
    flowing in my head. The wine made time, place, and thoughts, everything to stand still,
    like a brass bas-relief, and even I could not move in it. In the morning I was awakened by
    a city motorboat and some people waved and shouted in my direction. They saved me
    from freezing, fortunately, I wrapped myself in a cover from the table on which I fell
    asleep. I waved them and went through the house on the other side to get my cell phone
    from the car. When I was coming back I noticed a card on the doormat, which had to be
    pressed behind the car’s door. “Where are you?”, wrote Branka’s hand, either careless or
    nervous. She had to be here when I slept on the deck between four and eight in the
    morning. I looked around, got back to the car, and went for the appointment in a sail
    room. I did not want to be home in case she showed up again. She should not be in such
    a state and I was not ready for talks, and even less for quarrels. Today, I would not be able
    to pretend to be broken. I was fine.
    15 YEARS LATER
    “Did you find what you were looking for?” she sat in a chair by the open balcony door
    and read a book. Outside were palm trees, restaurant, swimming pools, and plenty of
    half-naked people. Civilization was suffocating in the bloom of the land overflowing onto
    the ocean’s shore. My mother looked at me from her book and returned to it without any
    comment about my appearance. The back seat and the musty stench of grandpa whom I
    took to a store driving half an hour on a rocky pavement, did its job. I lied down in the bed
    and fell asleep in my clothes. I heard my mother turn off the television, took off my shoes
    and lit a cigarette.
    SUNDAY
    The building stood by one of the small factories, whose manager was Adrian, in so-called
    industrial corridor of the city. His company employed mostly Mexicans and that’s why
    he studied Spanish. He met Marta at the school. However, it was Sunday, and apart from
    the sail room, all was closed. Their business was located in an old painstakingly
    renovated building from the nineteenth century with sandblasted brick walls and
    ceilings bent into huge wooden arches, literally smelling of old age and immortal
    beauty of nature shaped by hands of craftsmen, not machines. A soccer field could fit
    inside. Through the windows in the roof bright light of the morning spilled out onto
    multicolored sails, giving the whole area drama of colossal exposition of yacht canvases,
    waiting for the wind. Only sound was missing.
  • 26
    A long time ago I noticed that two things calm me down. Firstly, driving on a deserted
    highway which stretches for dozen of miles preferably thru a desert or prairie, where I
    could floor the gas pedal without worry about police and cameras. Secondly, walking
    through the marina and hearing the sound of ropes hitting the masts, and preferably the
    evening rush of loading the last baggage onto the yacht, with the splashing of water over the
    side, moving the plunder and cum on deck, deep breath of freedom and escape toward
    the nearest horizon, which mercifully retracts with a promise of change. Branka was
    until now the only woman with whom I could share these two experiences because she
    drew from them the same peace and inner joy. Over the last year we have traveled
    thousands of miles and sailed hundreds of miles, sometimes without any comment about
    passing hours. Each of us had its own world to escape to in silence and good spirit. Later,
    by some miracle, we noticed ourselves and these were meetings of different dimension,
    violent treasure discovery, and fascination. I drove into side roads and lookout points
    finding words so sweet that she clung to my mouth embracing me, feeding me with
    the tenderness of her body. I had an impression that I was too young for such gestures, but
    she wanted so, so it was. Sex followed.
    SUNDAY
    I had to get upstairs to a hall under the roof for them to see my presence. At sewing
    machines sat young men and women, enthusiasts, educated crazy people in funny
    clothes, ready to make sacrifice in order for the business of their dreams to take shape
    and bring them satisfaction. A sailing kibbutz with people focused and on fire. A bearded
    boy in glasses and loose sweater rose from the machine and walked over to me passing
    by folds of fabric on the floor.
    “Bronski, B as in ‘boy,’ spinnaker, I left it last week,” I threw in his direction.
    “One moment,” he said and pulled a laptop from a drawer, murmured something under
    his breath, and without a word went to the other end of the room where he fetched a
    sack which was bigger than he, but thankfully light.
    I paid for the repair and I was about to leave when he pulled a card out of the drawer
    and handed it to me.
    “We have a party for our customers today, if you want to join – BYOB – bring your own
    bottle,” he moved his glasses to the forehead and looked at me while explaining. “We are
    about to call it a day and set the stage and tables. There might be some Poles present
    that you know.”
  • 27
    He mentioned the names of some boats, mispronouncing most of them.
    “I’ll come for sure,” I patted him on the back and left. It was the first sunny day since
    many weeks. Spring was coming. I was glad that I did not have to make up anything and
    come in on someone else’s feeding ground and playground without any effort. It was
    true that I wanted to have Marta and I also had money. I could call, but I was afraid
    because Monday was too close. Too risky. I would give her a thousand to stay the whole
    night, come with girlfriend, or agree to play with the other toy. One hour stressed me.
    Again, this child, Ela, must wait it over, or she will take it as love and there will be tears
    and reproaches. I would love to have them both somewhere in a cafe, at a concert, in a
    club, or theater, laughing and just being with me, but it was rather impossible. Not with
    Ela. But then the compensation for Branka’s leaving me alone, in the doorway, like a dog,
    would be sufficient. Good and carefree time with girls, vacation from normality. As I
    remember, I have always mended myself with freedom, from Branka too, but I did not
    want anything more than her return and captivity. She blackmailed me with breakups,
    but her emotionality made her easy to manipulate, so I never felt threatened and I was
    aware of my upper hand. She won with me rarely and only when she vanished, while my
    defensive reaction was always the same, licentiousness. When she returned, I was quiet
    like a grave, stumbling over furniture with mouth full of water and a look of a calf in
    love. She trusted me and the returns were the most beautiful moments of our adventure.
    By morning she made the calf into enraged bull, which could carry on his back a
    mountain. I believed in another miracle which will blossom in my arms.
    15 YEARS LATER
    Adrian called during supper. My mother asked not to answer, but I missed male
    companionship.
    “What’s up?” he asked.
    “We’re eating supper. I will call you later.”
    Silence in the handset. He stopped pretending and stalling. “You were there?”
    “No, and I do not know if I will. I do not know where it is.”
    “Do it for me,” his voice crumbled. I always suspected that he loved her, that they had an
    affair. In the background, his children were making noise.
    “Say it again, convince me.”
  • 28
    “Please, do it for me, it’s not just a sentiment. You know how it was: a tribute to the old
    days.”
    “Thanks,” I whispered. “You convinced me.”
    He changed his tone.
    “I’ll call you later, say hello to your mother, and there, you know, do something.”
    “How did she die?” I asked.
    “She drowned while surfing, nobody noticed, they found her in the morning, mauled by
    sharks.”
    “Have you ever had her?”
    “Whom?”
    It surprised me how quickly he replied.
    „You know whom.”
    “Let’s not talk about this.”
    “Why?”
    “How much did you pay her?”
    “Nothing.”
    “Why?”
    “Because she was not a prostitute.”
    “I do not understand.”
    “I only went to school with her. She saw you because sometimes you came for me. Do
    you remember how you almost hit a girl crossing the street? It was her.”
    She asked me to introduce you to each other, but you were with Branka and I did not
    want to do it to her.”
    “Whom?”
  • 29
    “Branka. When you called and told me that you are looking for a prostitute, she was with
    me and I told her that you look for someone to spend a night with because you split with
    your girlfriend. She came up with the idea. Do you want to know the truth?”
    “Yes.”
    “I can tell you now. I loved Branka, not her. I hoped that she leaves you and she did but
    not for me. I never slept with Marta. Why you have never called her again?”
    “I needed to rest from her.”
    “I’m talking about Marta.”
    “I am disgusted with whores. I could not. It was the first and the last one. I promised
    myself that. Why did not you tell me?”
    “She did not want to. She wanted to win you over. She was going to tell you at the end.”
    In the background, Adrian’s wife was explaining something to the child. Laughter
    followed.
    “Go there and ask her for forgiveness for me,” asked Adrian.
    “Forgiveness? What have you done?”
    “You blind prick, you’ve never appreciated what you had.”
    My mother began to listen to our conversation. He pissed me off. I felt disgusted about
    him and myself. I remembered now that Branka for some reason always instated that he
    was not my true friend.
    He hanged up.
    After supper, to avoid suffering inside of the hotel, we drove to the mountains around
    the largest city, passing around ravines, and watching light spilling over the slopes.
    There were lots of Japanese tourists who came up with the same idea and with them it
    had a taste of adventure. Who rented them cars? And who allowed them to drive them?
    We stopped by the houses from the Moon, Mars, and other planets, it was so hard to
    believe that people built them. We were taking photos. I explained to the Japanese how
    to release the snapshot of my camera, and embraced my mother, who was finally happy
    and laughing. We later drove to the next mountain by the winding road in the glow of
    lights coming from cars driving down.
    “It’s all because of me.” My mother got caught up in deciphering the past.
  • 30
    “Let’s not talk about it,” I asked.
    “I should not have interfered. You knew better.”
    “You did not interfere.” I truly thought so because it was so. I treated their silent days as
    a feminine affair without meaning. They did not love each other. Their encounters were
    pantomime. It amused me to watch them go around each other by one mile while sitting at
    the same table and their artificial politeness. It did not matter.
    “Does she live here now, is it why you disappear so?”
    “Who? Branka?” I asked.
    “Yes.”
    I looked at my mother.
    “No. Branka does not live here. We came here for you, and I need to take care of
    something while I am here.”
    She hung her eyes on the road.
    “Now you would have children,” she said, examining the ground in my heart.
    I got irritated.
    “Stop it. Always the same. There are so many children to adopt.” I dismissed her.
    At the hotel, I went to the pool. With surrounding outlines of buildings, the illuminated
    eye of blue water glowed in the dark. I was an invader disturbing calmness of its surface
    for myself. I went underwater, because over there man focuses on his inside, and can best
    hear every thought in his head, it is easiest to get rid of all bad energy and remember
    only the happiness of embrace. Water has a heart bigger than all people put together.
    Once in Warsaw, as a child, I tied the shoe laces to the skiff footstools, when I trained
    rowing and the motorboat running nearby flipped me over. Suddenly I saw myself,
    upside down, tied to the long shadow on the water, and so I swam slowly and gently into
    death, with the lazy current of the river, like a hull with a keel made of a man hanging his
    head towards the bottom. I knew that it was enough to lose consciousness, but I wanted to
    remember this sight. After another tug I tore my shoes off my feet and emerged, only to
    face fear on the surface, seeing the enormous pillars of the bridge under which I was
    swimming. Certainly not because of what was still ahead of me, because what else? Since
    I have already got back on the surface. The operator from the water pumping station
    saw me and threw himself to the rescue. Panta rei. I was born again.
  • 31
    SUNDAY
    She was not pretty. She was intrusive, confident, loud, intelligent, and brilliant. She had
    everything but beauty. She burst out laughing as more men got into her traps like youths
    and came out like animals thinking with their cocks or with money in their wallets. She
    had no respect for this breed and provoked a contest in which she could not be beaten.
    For this reason alone, everyone wanted to have her and it was a game worth something.
    Of course, other women despised and avoided her like plague, which made things easier
    for other men. Do me, she had written on her face, but it was like writing on the sand with a
    finger, and this sand with the writing had to be carried to a bed without losing any grain,
    otherwise goodbye. There was only one method that worked, keep quiet, do not look,
    ignore her, and the more I drank, the easier it came to me. I was talking with the boy
    working with the sails who introduced me to other workers. I was about to leave, but I
    went to the other end of the hall and lie down on a hammock made out of the old sail. Music
    became a noise and people clowns. I wanted to rest some before returning home. It did
    not take long. Out of nowhere she brought me a drink, sat it by my side, and went back.
    However, she soon came back apologizing.
    “I saw what you drink, try it, if there is not too much whiskey.”
    “I do not drink anymore.”
    “Pole who does not drink? Whom are you kidding?”
    I decided to carry out the therapy. Smoothly, and without scruples.
    “Why did you come, go back to the faggots.”
    She was dumbfounded.
    “I have them on a daily basis, I work with them, and you are so desperate? Do you think
    it works?”
    She seemed ugly and not worth the trouble.
    “It’s not my business, but you have already forgotten what a man is, that’s why you
    despise them so much.”
    “You’re an idiot. A typical Pole.”
    She went away. She laughed even lauder and gesticulated more vividly, surrounded by
    faggots, who were trying to engage her from her brain’s side. “An absurd,” I thought.
    Actually, I did not consider them faggots, though some certainly were. No one
  • 32
    understood her. Finally, I slammed the door in anger. I walked a few streets on foot to
    sober up, and when I returned to the car, she stood there like a ghost.
    “I’m going to follow your car, but drive slowly, I’m drunk.”
    “Already looking for an excuse?”
    She ignored it.
    I drove off, waiting for her at the first intersection so that she would know that I
    accepted her offer. I did not fully read her contract, but her determination made it
    possible to guess all the benefits. The face is not everything. Today I will have sex with a crazy
    brain. At home, she went to the bathroom and I was glad that it was not the one where I
    had sex with Marta and Ela.
    When she left, she swayed, the hot shower did its job. She was naked and I preferred her
    that way. I made a pass without a word and went to take a shower. She sat down on the
    toilet with her head in her hands.
    “Do you think I exaggerate?”
    I pretended not to hear her.
    “I exaggerate, I do,” she replied to herself. F***, I exaggerate.”
    I turned to her.
    “If you want, you can sleep in the bedroom on the river bank. You’re tired.”
    She raised her head and slid off the toilet to her knees next to the tub, pulled me by my
    butt, and took him deep. I did not want her. I pushed her face away. However, in a fit of
    aggression and not wanting her, I turned her around, pushed her back, and when she
    bent down, I entered her at first normally then higher. And it was our contract. Torn up,
    standing on spaced legs, she leaned against the wall and cabinet, holding on to a faucet.
    She was panting with pleasure. I felt her better than the one on Friday and Saturday. I
    felt her better than Branka, as if it was the first time. I did not want to end it, I wanted to
    wear her down, to hear her moan and with my hands burn on her hips a mark of
    ownership. Next time, instead of demeaning men, she is to be on a string and apologize
    for being alive. She began to hit with her buttocks against my hips, taking up the
    challenge and her moan turned into a heavy breath of someone reaching the finish line
    and falling short mentally, ready to give up. Her knees failed and I had to hold her down
    so she would not fall away because I wanted more. Her groan turned into a spasm of the
    whole body and when she came to her senses, she began to feel me. When I was close,
  • 33
    she broke free and brought me to climax with her hand, flipping a gold chain with the
    star of David on her back, taking the semen on her face and breasts.
    I lie down in the tub without water, suddenly sleepy. She left and I heard her enter the
    other bathroom and take a shower. She went to bed in pink bedding. I did not expect
    Sunday to bring anything. I turned off the lights and fell on the bed.
    I was falling asleep in the second bedroom when I felt her lift up the quilt and take
    him into her mouth again. I turned on my stomach, taking her under. She wanted my
    orgasm and soon. She gave me no chance. I thought half-sleeping that I could go mad
    with excitement and lose my mind for her. She waited me out playing more with my
    brain than my penis. It was clearly a pleasure for her and a marathon for me. She let me
    sleep for a moment, then stood him up again and sat on me, positioned like in the
    bathroom hours ago. This time she would not let me come too early and began helping
    me with her hand. I had enough when I finally heard a familiar spasm, this time she did
    not run away. We were completely exhausted and happy, like animals let out of the cage.
    Now I just wanted to sleep.
    “Take a shower,” she kicked me out of the bed sitting with her back against the wall.
    My head was splitting, and the street noise of the city waking up was nothing compared
    to the buzzing in my head. It was Monday.
    When I was taking shower she came and got to it once again.
    “Are you crazy? There is no way.”
    “Shut up.”
    It was eight o’clock in the morning. Her party tone was back, as well as her self-
    assurance and disregard for the opposite sex. I was anxious about Branka showing up at
    any minute.
    15 YEARS LATER
    A bumpy road leading to the cemetery began to wear me down and the jeep. “The end of
    my world begins here,” I thought. A dozen volcanic rocks, arranged along a curve,
    blocked the way. The cemetery was an oasis of grass and crosses melted into the dark
    green jungle madness. One of its wings touched the slope, behind which spilled the
    vastness of an ocean. The gravity of lonely death was omnipresent.
  • 34
    At first, I went toward the cliff, because I was not ready to look for her name on the
    graves. I watched the splinters of light above my head, piercing through the domes of
    branches and leaves, the sun which I inhaled, like a cure for life.
    “Kiss.”
    “No, honey.”
    “You’re right and you’re wrong.”
    “Where are your rules? You’ve given me three hours.”
    “I’ll give you five more minutes or all of your life, do you want it?”
    I was speechless.
    “Why did you give me death?”
    “I did not want to.”
    “Why did you give me death?” I repeated.
    “I did not give it, she came on her own.”
    “Take me in.”
    “No.”
    “I’m as tired as then.”
    „I know.”
    The tombstone was gray, overgrown with moss and even sea shells on top looked dead. I
    stopped talking to her.
    Silence slowly got to me and its waves flooded my temple, eyes, and throat.
    “I’m sorry I waited so long.”
    She was silent now.
    I undressed slowly. I stepped over my clothes, like thru a threshold, into another world,
    and lie naked on the grave. The wind drifted down from the trees and calmly quenched
    the sky over me.
  • 35
    15 YEARS LATER
    Dinette was full of Germans. My mother suggested we move away.
    “I do not want to hear that language.”
    Rudi ran back and forth as if in amok, not even looking at our table, until the group of
    Germans finally overflowed outside, making even more confusion.
    “Rudi, my mother,” I introduced them to each other.
    She halted, “Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” and turned to me saying. “I thought you were here
    alone.”
    “That’s right,” said my mom. “My son is here alone and I’m alone. We rest better this
    way.”
    I did not comment.
    It was the first vacation that I spent solely with my mother and the longest with any
    woman. A hurried voyage through the past to put together a sensible whole for the
    future.
    I got up to help Rudi with the plates and followed her into the kitchen, leaving my
    mother looking at us.
    “Rudi.”
    “Yes?”
    “Tell me something.”
    “What?”
    “Fifteen years ago, a Czech girl drowned here, in the bay you showed me. Did you hear
    about it?”
    “Of course. Why do you ask?”
    “She was my girlfriend in Chicago.”
    She wiped her hands on her apron, looked at the cook, and took me out to the garden.
  • 36
    Again, the light among branches of paradise.
    “She drowned while surfing, right?” I asked.
    “No. There is no surfing in that bay. She had an argument with the boy who came from
    Chicago to take her away. Was it you?”
    I looked towards the ocean in search of my thoughts.
    “No. I knew her from before. Shortly. Very shortly.
    “She fell off the slope one week after he left. At night. She was laying on the beach
    broken, she was pregnant.” Rudi added without looking at me. “My boyfriend worked at
    the fire station at that time. Is it true that she was beautiful? What was her name?”
    TUESDAY
    She opened the door with her key. She did not take off her shoes, her steps sounded on
    the stairs like drums.
    I set it up on the bed. She stood at the door searching for my eyes, hesitated to find them
    empty. Finally, she sat down as if unsure on a chair by the closet. The mirror reflected her
    naked back and shoulders so perfectly formed, that the thought of sex became stronger
    than the curiosity of what she was going to say.
    She crossed her legs, slowly lowered her head, and began to whisper something.
    I was motionless listening, understanding nothing, subconsciously comparing her with
    others. With all her beauty, that ideal body that I could have underneath in a while, it got
    through to me, that there was no desire in me to fix anything like there was three days
    ago. Lust ceased to be a rescue.
    Imagination was still drowning enchanted by Marta, her spontaneous, but at the same
    time gentle deference; carefree sharing of herself without pretensions and conditions.
    “Too late,” I said.
    She looked up to check the look on my face.
    “Too late,” I said again. “I asked you not to leave me.”
  • 37
    “I’m sorry,” she moaned, her fingers intertwined as if to pray.
    Now I bowed my head. I could not prolong the agony. I did not want arguments, torment,
    insincere apologies, and contests.
    I laid on my back and looking at the ceiling I said, “I slept with three women over the
    weekend. Nothing will be the same as before.”
    I knew her. It was enough. She got up knocking down the chair.
    “F*** you. You will regret it.”
    15 YEARS LATER
    I do. The whole world has passed.
    I am bound by an irreversible past, from which only I was left, unneeded. Maybe that’s why
    I came with my mother: to deceive myself that I have somebody to live for and to watch
    my mother staring at the ocean and organizing the world for both of us.
    An ideal, which I have never found, but was so close to.
    She said, “I never stay for another hour.”
Posted on

Życie jako lekarstwo na ból dupy w niebie

zobaczysz

będzie cudownie
powrócimy tu jako kwiaty
by ranem
zaorane swiatłem
stratowało nas bydło nowych pokoleń
pędzone horyzontem od ogona do mordy
zaszczute strachem
gnojem
szarpane po organach duszy i ciała
przez hieny Szatana

odrobimy straty do śmierci własnej
i wszystkich Obcych miedzy nami
a prawa stworzenia okażą nam łaskawość zapomnienia  i może wtedy
uwolnieni
zatańczymy pod butem naszych właścicieli
oraz każdej zarazy jaką nam podadzą na dzień dobry i dobranoc

wiec Boże,
tak
to będzie cudownie
obudzić się we śnie
kolejnego istnienia

budować wyniosły zamek który nie będzie nasz
ale będziemy walczyć z jego wież pazurami i krwią
śmiercia i niedoczekanym zmartychwstaniem

niepoczytalne niebo
co noc wyczaruje nam jakiś piękny los
najazd dzikich hord
rzeź
albo potop

przyznaj bracie, że kochasz
podany do ust
Ziemi kurz
padół u stóp
lekarstwo na ból dupy w niebie

 

 

 

 

 

Ojca i syna

W Polsce ziemia pachnie inaczej
inaczej pachną pąki nocy
inaczej pachnie sen rozkoszy
wewnętrzny obraz
z którego budzisz się pod drzewem życia zbłąkanym psem
oszalałym zwierzęciem ojca i syna
za oknem Ameryka
bez wiary
na brzegu jeziora ognia
pod krwawym milczeniem Księżyca
wołam cię
na bezdrożach przed końcem pokoleń
ogarnij się

Spokojnie

tylko spokojnie
mój towarzyszu od dobrych rad i pocieszenia
razem
wejdźmy w jakiś lepszy świat natrętni i ślepi
gdzieś po jaśniejszej stronie monety rzuconej od niechcenia przez oszalałych Aniołów

tam kupimy chleb
i tam kupimy przestrzeń na poranny śpiew
weźmiemy miód do ust i w serca
i nawet zaćmienie słońca po mojej stronie szaleństwa
gdzie Nic zaczyna się od końca
a Wszystko jest bez początku
wyjawi nam milczace tajemnice istnienia
tylko spokojnie
spokojnie

Miejsce bez nazwy

Jak wściekłemu psu
Wieczności
wyrwałem to życie z gardła
nieporozumienie
codzienna walka na kly

Wieczność czuje się rozdarta
ma pretensje jakby moje życie
prowadziło Czas donikąd
w Nieokreślenie bez nazwy
bez korzeni w jakąkolwiek relację z kosmosem
w niezbadane wyroki boskie
w pomieszczenie bez okien
w ciemność domysłów

kłócić się z Wiecznością to tak
jakby uciekać przed ostatnią deską ratunku gdzie Czas
ma jeszcze miejsce
na jakąś zabawną historię
na wytłumaczenie się
pod słońcem

***

like from a dog’s throat
I tore this life away
from Eternity
major misunderstanding
and a waste of time

Now
Eternity
feels torn
has a grudge
as if my life
led Time to nowhere
indefinitely
where names and foundations do not exist
or have any roots in a relationship with the cosmos
into
unexplored divine judgments
into a space without windows
into the blindness of wild guesses

to argue with Eternity is like running away from the last resort
from anywhere where time still is
has a place
and some made up history to explain itself

Przystanek

to ostatni przystanek
do przyczyny wszystkiego
stoję na nim
bo urodziłem się na nimi
i na nim czekam aż podjedzie autobus z moją twarzą
i moim numerem

to jedyny środek lokomocji stąd do gdzies tam
gdzie stoi moja śmierć znowu spóźniona
znowu z wyciem
jakby nigdzie nie bylo
innych przystankow do czegokolwiek innego
niz ona

pewnie dlatego tak opustoszało moje widzenie zycia
poszedł Marek
ojciec
brat
poszła matka
idzie Anna
poszli na piechotę
do przyczyny wszystkiego

***
Last stop
before the reason for everything
I am standing here
because that’s where I was born
waiting
till the bus arrives
with my face
and my number
the only means of transportation from here to somewhere else
sudden death
with a bang
late again
as if there were any other stops
to anything but here
maybe that’s why my remote viewing got so empty
Mark went
Andrew did
Ann followed
to the reason for everything
on foot

Drzewo niezycia

moje słowa nigdy nie ukrywaly mojego milczenia
moje spojrzenia
ślepoty

nigdy nie przeszkadzałem sobie
tym sobą innym

którym przelewałem w świt zmeczenie nocy
prorocze sny
w kamienie rzucone w twarz ludzkosci

tyle niepotrzebnego życia
w którym szukam się
codziennie
jakby to miało znaczenie

Peace\ Spokój

spokój to finezja ciszy
cisza to przestrzeń między dwoma myślami
każda myśl żyje kosztem mojej ciszy

na wszystko przychodzi pora
za pięć minut do ostatniej chwili
tam dopiero budzimy się
i zaczynamy żyć

***

Peace is the finesse of silence
Silence is the space between two thoughts
Every thought lives at the expense of my silence

There is time for everything
within five minutes till the last minute
where we wake up
and finally begin to live

Chodźmy

chodźmy już
spróbujmy zrobić z tego dnia sukces
oprócz oczywistego sukcesu życia który już jest w naszym myślach
w oszalalym krwiobiegu do jakiejś następnej rany

na przykład nazwijmy piękną rzeczywistość
imionami wierszy człowieka który wie czego nie mówi
kiedy milczy głosem sumienia
odwraca się
do innego życia

młyn poezji tylko dla poety
spirala w dół
ciążenie
zawieszenie
słów
powoli wrastają mi korzenie zmysłów w bagno następnego dnia
jesteś moim uziemieniem
ja
będę dla ciebie pierwszym tego ranka
nieogolonym kwiatem lotosu

Po drodze

w mojej samotności jest miejsce dla wszystkich samotnych
wniebowzięta
leży w zbiorowej mogile całego pokolenia
pod sklepieniem modlitw
i jeżeli zasłużę na skrzydła
będziemy mogli porozmawiać o zbawieniu
o naszych odmiennych stanach całospalenia żywcem
pod wiezieniem słońca
księżyca
ciał po drugiej stronie domysłów
tej nieboskiej samodestrukcji

tak samo miejsce na miłość
leży odłogiem od ostatniego urodzenia
bo zęby
pazury
byly ważniejsze
biologia
z ostatniej matki i w drodze do Boga
chwilowa ciągłość emocji
o niekochaniu cyrku ani małp

albo nie jestem z małp
albo stąd

nadaje się tylko stąd
do niczego tutaj

***

rapture
there is a place for everyone
in my loneliness
it lies in the collective grave of the entire generation above
and if I deserve wings
we will talk about salvation
about our different states of self-immolation here
under the sun
moon
bodies on the other side of our best guesses
this divine self-destruction because
death or nothing
it’s just the tip of an iceberg I’m waiting on

place for love
lies fallow since last birth
to last mother
because my teeth
claws
they couldn’t wait
thanks God
there is a momentary continuity
about not loving the circus or monkeys
thus I’m not from the monkeys
or here

here
unsuitable
for anything

Poeta w nierzeczach

nie ma znaczenia
która Ziemia mnie spali
płaska
prawdziwa
okrągła
fałszywa
czy źrenica
od ciemności do światła cała z dziury do zatrutego źródła
oddalonego
spoconego
eksperymentu życia z chorej
ponadludzkiej potrzeby bezpieczeństwa Prometeusza

szukam konkretnej rzeczy w ekstremalnych nierzeczach
ale wiem
że nie szukam uczucia dla losu z drewna rozpalonego obietnicą piekła nade mną
ogniem niepoczytalnego nieba ponad stadem przyziemnych analfabetów

co poeta miał na myśli?
widzialną ciemność
niewidzialne światło
czy na myśli miał gówno z małp
a może nie myślał
wreszcie o sobie
mózgiem

Posted on

Update humans

Future to be true to itself must posses as few features of its predecessor as possible. The danger is that the process might require rearrangements of human nature but do we like human nature as it is now?

Posted on

Peacefully

If they don’t want to borrow money peacefully, you can always provoke a war they will need to borrow money for.

Posted on

Humanity

Through out human history there has been only one war and it has been a war against humanity with the use of humanity. You do not see armies of pigs, apes, tigers, aliens or sharks marching to kill humans. It is always armies of humans marching to kill humans but there is a light in the tunnel…armies of robots, drones, viruses. All coming.

Posted on

Politics

The purpose of politics and politicians is to justify wars in a way that shifts the blame for them occurring from profiting elites to dispossessed populace.

Posted on

Circumstances

You are wrong thinking I forgot your face
no day can pass along its light
no Sun can rise above
without me coming to terms with grief
of that empty space you left to blind chance
of fate

I can not turn inside out circumstances
reason with what’s done and sealed
still I would rather taste when I see
I would rather scream when I sing
everything you
everything me
everything missed so much it hurts the spine
feeling much better now
after the end has poisoned my eyes and crushed my feet

walking circles square
swallowing pills and dreams in the making
I do wish I moved the mountains
parted the sea
lost myself to abyss
when our love was ripe for taking

Posted on

Soul among immortals

take care
if I don’t see you in the next life
I might be skipping one
as body aches and pains
spirals down the venin end
I am done with it for now
and we never make it past the slave anyway
why would I desire to drown in that river of blood so soon?
I will take some time out to rest
from food
sex
many sins
shed this skin of 666
finally lose the sense of place and belonging to it

maybe thousand years from now
I will begin to miss the bliss
and I will come down to say hi
to mechanically immortal
organic puppets
we would have become
if I didn’t exist