i like to sleep

My shawdow on the river, flickering. The water piercing one side and leaving the other without taking anything. Only changing me while here and leaving without a mark. My shadow and the river dance together but there is nothing to remember.

I put my hand in the river. The water is cold and it drips from my fingers. My fear of insignificance settles as I watch the river take back its own. Tiny riplets form but still ignore my shadow.

Turning away, my shadow calms on the dirt amd meets my hand when we pick a stone. The river ripples and sways on the surface as our stone reaches bottom. There I know the river is made different even when I am gone.

Fuego sees a man placing markers, but the markers may have already been placed by her mother. Her grave is marked and Fuego turns to wake.

Fuego takes the woman and makes love to her. The woman is sweet and soft. She smells good. Her breasts soft and body, held in Fuego’s strong arms. He sees his muscles flex with fertility. They do not have intercourse because it is not important now. Holding her and her nakedness is all that matters.

Her hair is beautiful. She is standing in front of Fuego. He sniffs the air hoping to take in some of her but is dissapoointed at the emptyness in his nose. She is a curiosity; deeply religious but sexy and cute at the same time. Fuego is too old for her in his weak mind. But maybe she could be his. Fuego begins to see his own life and is embaarrased a little. He is different and a loner but enjoyed that until he was so close to her he could place his hands on her soft shoulder and embrace her. Feeling her body against his is  merely dreaming, especially that they are in public.

Fuego has seen her before. In the summer her shirt was slim and she was attractive then too. She looks expensive, Fuego thinks and he realizes the money he has might be more important than her, and he is more ashamed of himself. She is too young anyway and probably has a lover or an eye on the younger men so Fuego can only dream he is in her thoughts.

His chest pounds, breathing quickens and palms sweat; She may turn to face him soon. A deep breath and pinch back to reality helps a little. Time is nothing as most things around are moving faster than Fuego knows they should be.

There, her face is suddenly with his. Everything blurry and slow. Round and gentle; A face instantly taking in all of Fuego’s dreams. There is nothing in Fuego’s world except her hand and her eyes in his. Her smile, she says something, and Fuego can only squeak out one word with a nod of his head. If he could stop time at that moment to take her in. She is kind enough to see him but he knows it will not become more as he is wishing.

Coffee perhaps, would be something she would like to share with him. If she doesn’t like coffee then he would drink what she wants and likes without thinking twice about it because it is her. Perhaps he would laugh with her too. Perhaps they could spend time together like friends do and not rush to become lovers. Fuego hears his thoughts in this way and suddenly feels a painful void in his chest where once it beat with anticipation to have her eyes in his and his in hers. His breathing slows and his chest sinks. It doesn’t really matter anyway; the crowd is large and both of them slip away into the masses again.

The rail was there but the river grand. Fuego holds to the cold steel rail before he can feel the running river betaween his toes. He recalls the library and the ghost like mummified man who cares for the place.

He remembers the dark room and the ill kept furniture. The book shelves had no books but just a mess of things discarded and forgotten.The room is quiet and cool and is like an attic.

Fuego is not frightened in this room. He is rummaging about more out of boredom and curiosity than for a quest for something found. Fuego cannot remember anything before the ghostly man, the sad man who no longer wants of life. He has only one purpose and that is to be the only remamning life in this place. The man is content doing so, but Fuego pities him.

Fuegito is with him. The steel rail is warmer now that Fuego is a little nervous. His sense of adventure is too great and Fuego begins entering the swift flowing river. Fuegito is first because he is not Fuego. His four paws treading against the current are not enough at first, until Fuegito finds a way to swim upstream. Fuego is next and the water cool. He is becoming the river and it feels like home. It’s life, ever changing and not stagnant.

Later, a group meanders up the walk and along the river. They look into the river as Fuego and his dog rest on the hilltop. Everyone is looking now. Only Fuego knows the river.There is a woman in the group and Fuego is happy she has come too. They have something in common and yet are strangers. Fuego finds it ironic.

There is a muddled view of what is down below. It is not easy for Fuego to see. A pile of people and also someone who Fuego does not like. It is all slow motion and blurred as if fast too.

The trees and meadow and expansive horizon calm Fuego. He is alone but at peace and content. His lover is not with him. Instead of her, Fuego has a place in his heart that is warm and not alone because of her. Fuego’s plans have changed and he is about to embark on a long journey. His sack is packed full of provisions, his clothing proper and comfortable, his shoes fitting. He sends a note to his distant lover about their new rondevouz. It is in another country, but no matter where it is, they are to meet later and the journey is beautiful and all is right.

Fuego is on the move today. He is very busy. The crowds are impressive and swarming like bees. Each person going about their moments as if there was purpose. Fuegoś purpose was to find his new class. He remembers getting their once before. It was through the art section and then through the military section. If only he could find the art section. In front of him lay the military section and he is lost.

His feet are bare. Fuego is embarrased but only after passing an old aquaintence in the hall as he tries to hide his bare feet. Before that akward moment Fuego is content and at peace despite dwelling in a sterile facility. The walls are tile, the floor cold, the halls long and empty of life. There are no living here only shells of what once were people.

Far back in this place, Fuego sat with a woman he loves. Before crossing the old aquaintence in the hall in his bare feet, Fuego loved this woman. She is beautiful and love softens hard lines of her face and words. She is ill and lay still. Earlier she was on a surgical table and a curiosity to all. Her insides are different.

The man’s heels are sharp and sticaccato on the tile floor. He is surrounded by soilders in his craft. They are there for a mission that only elite perform. If there were pedestals around, he might have stood a few moments atop. But the actions are cold and businesslike. Sharp and not soft like the womans face who should not be hoping for their help but turning away and walking barefoot with me down the empty hall.

Fuego is busy today but his hair keeps growing so fast it must be cut constantly. It begins to grey on the edges but otherwise is black. Fuego has a lot to do but his hair keeps growing and is a distraction.