little guinea pigs

whispering unknown words in his ear. (did he ever understand them? did he ever try to make any sense in such situation?). she would whisper them while undressing him (specially when she knew that he would not pay attention to words). she would mumble them in the middle of a kiss, or while sliding her hands over his calves. (she always had a yearn for reactions. and in a sense he was a disappointment).

little guinea pigs (such an amusing pet, one who wouldn't complain about her observations). maybe i should get myself one, she thought. (half a smile, muttering the idea while biting his neck gently).

do you understand my passions?

- i read this unusual book yesterday. it was about a woman who was dating a younger man. she was totally mad about him, but she couldn't understand why he would be interested in her.

- did you enjoy the reading?

- yes, i guess i did. i am not sure, though. she was worried about their relationship. too worried actually.

- why?

- she kept wondering if it was the right thing to do, if he could only be infatuated. probably she was scared of an ephemeral passion.

- sounds like a stupid novel to me.

- that's because you didn't read it. she wanted this man with all her heart (maybe that's your problem, you never want anything with all your heart).

- then why was she so troubled?

- she felt there was a gap between what she wanted and what was right. she was too involved and she was in terror. she would have never resisted a broken heart.

- is there a happy ending?

- she dies in the end

- see? i told you it was an obtuse story.

an evening together

sitting in front of the table. candles and porcelain. wearing a short red dress, bare shoulders, high heels. his eyes when he eats. looking at her with a half smile. he takes one bite, chewing it slowly for a while. she looks down. sight fixed on her lap. bright eyes (the soft shadow of the candle light). hair falling on her face. brilliant, a perfect view. he drinks some wine.

he moves his chair sitting close to her (he can feel her breathing next to his face) and serves her some food and wine.

- what a magnificent dinner, darling. (feeding her in the mouth). don't you just love it when we spend quality time together? (she takes the bite) and today is a special occasion, isn't it? (feeds her again, a mouthful this time) did i tell you about our holiday plans? i think i didn't. never mind, i am sure you will be extremely happy. you need sunbathing, you know? you are too pale. (another bite, this time she refuses to take it) open wide, please (she nods) wide (she opens her mouth, takes the bite). is it too salty or it was just me? about the holidays, i was thinking we could have three weeks. we both need a rest. and it will be a wonderful opportunity. (giving her some wine) take it, please. you are funny when you drink. (she smiles) i was even considering renting a summer cottage. well, it was just an idea anyway. we will discuss it later (another bite, she accepts it. he cleans her mouth with a napkin and offers her more wine). guess it's enough, isn't it?

guided tour

points of interest

the lights in the sky at dawn (when everyone else is sleeping). the sound of the passing cars in the highway. an orgasmic moan. someone who is leaving it all behind and waves goodbye in silence. a child calling his mother (suddenly awaken in the middle of a nightmare, scared and thirsty). a last breath and those last words which never sounded so foolish (i will always love you). the mona lisa and a land of fire. and those legs around my neck, but i try not to take the piss. dreaming of a road while driving. the horizon. the venus of milo. theseus. the smell of roses. whoever will give me those shots and bring warmth to these bones. the eyes of a stranger. the north wind. the deep veins and the blood. dante's limbo (and the tied lovers).

or i walk down the empty road humming and screaming, almost with the same strength and to the same tune.

personal battles

breakfast at mc donald's. i drink bad coffee. it's cold outside. autumn.

i read the newspaper. (an enthomologist approach to the news). three kids (ages 15 to 17) go to a drugstore in a small town (some small town anywhere). they point at the boy working the cash register with a gun (the boy is 16). he knows them. they used to play soccer together. they live in the same small town. the kid is not even scared. he thinks its a joke or something. hey, you guys, what the fuck are you doing? give us the money, they say. the kid argues. it's my daily salary, he says, the owner won't pay me if you take the money (only ten dollars in left in the cash register). they insist. (the kid makes 100 dollars a month working in the drugstore after school hours). he still thinks it's a joke of some kind. they shoot him in the middle of the chest and run away with the ten dollars (the frozen second between the shooting and the impact in his chest, when he realized it wasn't a joke at all).

they bring ambulances and doctors. someone calls the kid's dad. dad is a retired police officer working as private security in a shopping mall nearby. dad gets there. he sees the doctors and his son on the ground. blood all over his chest. the place is already crowded with curious people. dad mutters something to the doctors. his son is dead. dad takes his gun, looks at the doctors and says there's nothing left. dad shoots himself in the head.

it's cold outside and mc donald’s breakfasts suck anyway. the breeze and a chilling air.