'Love hit me when I was twelve. I was still in shorts but little hairs were
starting to grow in my upper lip. A young girl, Lucy, lived in the flat above
ours. She was pretty with lovely, brown hair and perfect teeth. One day, after I
had saved my pocket money for some time, I invited Lucy to go to a variety show
with me. I only had seventy cents but I had worked it all out: two tickets for
the theatre, fifty cents, and four tram tickets, twenty cents.
It was
January and it had snowed earlier that day so we took the tram. Lucy looked
charming and I looked handsome as we got off in Times Square. Unfortunately, a
candy vendor vas standing outside the theatre. I hadn't thought about that. Lucy
saw her favourite coconut candy and asked for it. Like a fool, I bought it for
ten cents.
We were miles away from the stage and the noise of Lucy eating
her candy was louder than the actors voices. During the performance, Lucy ate
every single bit of candy. On the way out, I was a bit upset about the candy.
But then I realised I only had enough money for one ticket back home. Today I
feel terrible about this, but remember, I was only twelve, it was very cold and
Lucy had eaten all the candy.
I turned to her and said, "Lucy, when we left
home, I had seventy cents, enough for the tickets and the tram fare. I hadn't
planned the candy. I didn't want candy. You wanted candy and you had all the
candy. I have every right to go home by tram and leave you to walk. But, you know
I'm mad about you. So I'm going to give you a fair chance. I'm going to toss
this coin. If it's heads, you get to ride home. If it's tails, I ride home" It
was tails. For some curious reason, Lucy never spoke to me again. What had I
done wrong?'
take care
Personalidad de Escorpio: Sensibles, empáticos, curiosos, impetuosos, rencorosos, salvajes, arriesgados. Suelen ser ambiciosos y competitivos, pero lo ocultan bien. Les gusta decir lo que piensan, no tienen secretos. Son sociables, les gusta el misterio, lo religioso y lo prohibido. Suelen tener amores apasionados e intensos, seductores, fogozos, inagotables; no les gustan los compromisos, pero si tienen uno son celosos y a veces violentos.
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Foals in winter coats, white girls of the North. File past on, five and one. The are the fabled lambs, a Sunday ham, the EHS norm. And they can float above the grass, in circles if they tried. A latent power I know they hide, to keep some hope alive, that a girl like I could ever try. So we just skirt the hallway signs, a phantom and a fly. Follow the lines and wonder why, there's no connection. A week of rolling eyes, and cheap shots from the tribe. And we're often in Marcus' porch again, another afternoon with the gold head tunes. And pilfered booze. We wandered through your mama's house, and the milk from the window lights. Family portrait circa ninety-five, this is that foreign land, with the sprayed on tans. And it all feels fine, be it silk or slime. So, when they tap out Monday heads, to zombie-walk in our stead. This town seems hardly worth our time. And we'll no longer memorize or rhyme, too far along in our climb. Stepping over what now towers to the sky, with no connection.
fantasía o realidad
Estoy buscando en vano una sola explicación, que de una vez por todas justifique tanta incomprensión. Si la vida nos importa, y si no somos tan idiotas ¿Por qué nos dedicamos a cubrir el mundo de dolor? Y es cierto lo que dicen sobre engaño y corrupción. O que un montón de niños se alimentan solo con arroz. Y cuando miras al de al lado, y lo ves tan necesitado, que regalo tan preciado la fortuna nos ha dado.
Buscan soluciones, con el racismo hay que acabar. Y no saben todavía por donde van a empezar. ¿Y si todos los individuos fueramos de un color distinto? Seguro seguiría habiendo problemas de igualdad racial. Alguien dijo un dia una indudable verdad: olvidamos las pequeñas alegrías por lograr la gran felicidad. Son detalles de la vida, que dan otro punto de vista. Quizas sea demasiado tarde cuando los quieras valorar.
Para qué medir el tiempo, si lo nuestro es esperar. Para qué sentirnos ciertos, si la vida nos da igual. O para qué creernos todo lo que vemos si al final, no sabemos ni siquiera si es fantasía o realidad.
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