It is a pitch black night. The stars are shining bright but their glimmer cannot not be seen. The clouds are hanging like indigo drapes. Heavy soviet shabby indigo curtains. The moon is nowhere to be seen. The stale wind is blowing over the marsh. There is no sound to be heard. No one can tell if it is winter or summer. So strange are the times.
A fly starts its ascension towards the unseen moon. As soon as it appears on the horizon a green nasty toad appears and swallows it in a quick gulp. That is the end of the poor fly.
A dragonfly also appears on the horizon and manages to escape the hungry toad. The toad blinks with its huge eyes towards the dim glimmer of what might have been a dragonfly’s invisible wings. The toad does not hear anything, nor it sees anything very well. The toad does not care. We know because of its soulless expression. Its huge but stupid brain knows nothing of the stars in the sky, other than what flew right before its nose. Some people are like that.
People on the street are rushing by. They don’t see the moon or the stars, they simply run on like a river. They bury their noses in gutters. They are worried, they are disquiet, they are disturbed in their sleep, they wake up at 3 a.m. thinking the same thoughts they have already digested the previous morning. Sleepwalkers all of them. The street car is running toward us but we don’t want to catch it, so we let it go. While standing there watching it disappear we cannot help but fall in love, and falling in love becomes an amusement, a game. We are disillusioned and have fallen prey to self-deception. We think we can love. We end up knowing nothing of one another. We end up complete strangers.
Strange days these are. As I light a cigarette standing at the corner watching the sunset and the last photons kicking against the curb, I am wondering when this all is going to end. This mess I am in. Owing money and favors. I detest owing anything, even the air that I breathe. Nothing comes cheap. Never had. Now it’s visible more than ever. I am waiting for H. to come and collect the dough. I get nervous when he’s not on time. Bastard. Almost always late. I think he came on time only once. Everything’s about him. His clothes, his money problems, his car, his work, his women. I can’t stand that shit any longer. I’m packing my things and going to split. Just have to do it wisely without him ever realising it is him I am running away from. It’s like that Vaya Con Dios song about Louis who don`t care a thing about anyone. That`s H. precisely. With surgical precision. I am sick and tired investing myself in narcissistic bastards, covert or overt. Business or pleasure. I swear I’m going to explode if he doesn’t come on time. Like hell. I always think that and then resign. What a coward I am.
Don`t you just hate it when people treat you like you are a ghost? I heard some people ghost hunt. What a crap. We are already ghosts. There`s no harm in offering a drink. We like wine, no harm in that. And you think highly of yourself, don’t you?You make everyone believe you are so humble, doing community work, helping the poor and yet you just seek attention. You are scared inside, feeling worried, anxious for what? You are worried people are onto you. That’s why. Scared like a little mouse so you pretend you are a lion. You are a liar. We are all a bunch of liars.
Don`t you feel relieved when walking down or up the street at night there’s no one there to walk behind you or towards you. If there were it could be a serial killer or a pervert. Streets are not what they used to be. I have headaches sometimes of such proportions I think my head is going to explode. I don’t know, it must be the weather. I just can’t stand people asking me all sorts of questions, which also gives me a headache. I tried to call my therapist the other day. He didn’t respond. I saw he saw my message, I feel like being ghosted by a girl. Why would he do that when I pay him well. I guess they are also crazy like us. Drinking, taking drugs, destroying relationships. Everyone is sick I guess. I can’t wait for H. any longer. I feel so drained.
The toad watches the moon. It doesn’t know anything. What an enviable situation, to be a toad, knowing nothing, oblivious of time, space, stars. Like living in a gutter. Not knowing if it is a day or night. Never had much confidence. I bet that toad has more confidence than me. I take a deep breath. I am marshed here. Stranded. I am walking away. Can`t wait, no patience. The air is getting cooler, chiller. Chills blowing up my coat. What a coat that was once. My life, once. It was once different. Promising. The toad jumps back into the water.
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