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!
Democratic Dilemmas and Divine Inspiration examines the significance or relevance of the idea that the U.S. Constitution was, as many believe, divinely inspired. How much did that belief matter to founders of the nation and how much does it matter no
Democratic Dilemmas and Divine Inspiration examines the significance or relevance of the idea that the U.S. Constitution was, as many believe, divinely inspired. How much did that belief matter to founders of the nation and how much does it matter no
