She wasn't All that inteligent, nor a raving beauty; she wasn't very popular, nor charismatic, but she had me over a barrel, or maybee the cliche lock stock and barrel would be more appropriate. I look back now with amazement of how I worshiped her like a love sick puppy, yet she rarely looked my way, making me want her all the more. Did the meer thought of "us" make her tremble, for back then I had a reputation for trouble. But oh those lips; those hips, treasures for sunken ships... I was lost at sea! Did fate keep us apart; we were so young, so free spirited and naive. It was one of the most difficult periods in my life; I had nothing, my car became my home and when it was to cold the floor of a friends apartment untill I wore out my welcome. I was a teenage bum who drank, fought and swore too much. But she I craved, oh how I craved! I was a junky and she was the fix. Now it seems mysterious, elusive, or downright crazy how she undermined my world, being totally immune and disconnected to my hunger. One cold afternoon I cornered her in a friends garage and made my plea and she politely declined my most serious attempts of persuasion, but I was met with silence, she was emotionally aloof and I was strugling. I was so sure of myself back then, so cocky but had over-reached. I was drinking from a sieve and it humbled me. Her face has faded from my memory only the intensity of the emotion remains. She was my nemisis; she could not give love when I thought I could, but what was she really? A short lived obsessive cumpulsive disorder. A distraction, a diversion, a dichotomy. She was a dead end street, a fairy tale, an insanity plea, but what was I; a binging, bumbling bafoon, an obnoxious hellian with a one way pass to never land hoping for hitch-hikers fool enough to accompany me. I was a city boy with a wild streak a country mile wide. Was there any wonder that I scared the descent girls away, "far away," But she, she, she... I wonder if she even remembers me!
(The reflection) Who was that stupid kid, I knew him not! What an embarrasment he was unto himself; whole vain fools rebel in their abandon! Get out of the way this ship has no rudder!
(The act of justification) The primative impulse is intangible; an inigma to the refined. A primal urge so strong that we become inebriated, surrendering to the source with little deffense, like a leaf blowing in a gale; natures wrath consumes the youthfull man who is without constitution, less he be spanked with moral discipline. Was I usurped by some procreative ritual from the primordial soup, perfected over evolutionary eon's; by some inate chemical switch that over-rides intelligence to ensure the survival of the specie, timed so well as to take advantage of our mental innocence? Isn't this intelligence supposedly subordinate to our own or am I just a pawn in the game of life? Perhaps I am the hitch-hiker; a captive consciousness held hostage by a monkey body, or am I just hijacking nature like some sort of alien parasite sent here to suck the marrow of life?
"Who can tell untill this partnership is dissolved!"
H.J.Cruz 1/07
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Reviewed by nancy weston
6/24/2007
Oh the memories, I think we all go through a period like that for someone...I do every few weeks :p
This is vivid prose! a wonderful reflection on the follies of youth. SHE was both immature and sensible to have acted on your desire. Full of her own insecurities at a tender age, masked by her indifference! Ah well was just trying to make you feel better!
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