Saved By The Bottle

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He looks at Amina amidst the blinding laser lights and blasting speakers, whispering to ask if he could kiss her. Just once and just for tonight.
His eyes begged a simple one night banging, the kind that will bring back all the dead senses in him.

A fusion of an easy beer and some concoction of coconut with rum flared through his breath. He could’ve said more but his eyes conveyed a thirst to be quenched.
“Take me back home” he told himself, a silent erection he tried to hide.

She looks through her glasses and awkwardly sips her beer from a straw. Her mind wandering around the room of strangers and looks back at him,nods her head to confirm. “Alright” she says calmly, Amina hops off her seat placing herself right in front of him. Clears her throat as if it was a preparation before a big performance.

Nearing herself as they exchange breaths, taking each other in, she says with her eyes closed “love, please be real. Upon your lips, I’ve searched mountains far and oceans deep to find a love so true. I only ask you to unfool my thoughts of shaking beds and panties on the floor. Let’s exchange, take my chastity and I’ll take your desperations, perhaps then both of us will not despair.”

Opening her eyes waking herself from this lunacy, some fabricated smoke lures in the air. Amina keeps her calm, “it wasn’t real”she tells herself.

Water rings on the table, a waitress walks away clinking a handful of empty beer bottles and a swaying paper umbrella from the cocktail glass on her other hand.

*end*

Garden Monsters

There is this monster in my garden, the kind that eats my newly sowed seeds. I hide and hide away from it, not knowing where it will next feed.

There is a monster in my garden, it has one eye and tiny feet. It’s furry face has no disgrace and a nose that can smell from miles away the little girls in the schoolyard.

There is a monster in my garden, it scratches its belly while it walks around in squares. It speaks in barely syllables and slurps away its dribbling snot.

There is a monster in my garden, it roars its way to sleep. It pulls out my baby daffodils and throws it in the corner fence. It picks up all the torn petals and makes it into a bed.

I look at the monster in my garden, it has this little scar. The one not like Harry Potter but definitely the one that causes sparks.

I feel for the monster in my garden, He dreams in silent melodies. And always has His arms arched in mid air while he sleeps.

I asked the monster in my garden, “what happened to Her?” His single eye hidden in the furry face slowly opened behind all disguise, a small tiny tear dropped in the world’s surprise.

My monster in the garden, is this classic case of wine; He gave His heart to a passing Her but unfortunately went on passing by.

All day he walks around this garden, hiding behind the fence; always waiting for that moment to repeat as he persistently denies His defeat.

One day I will find that monster who will pass by this garden, I shall grab Her psycho hair. I’ll twist it into mental braids and threaten to cook her like meat.

A Quick Splash

As the pitter patter of rain drops outside the window and an old record playing, “it’s a beautiful world…” The singer draws out the last line to a fade rather than a halt. There she lays breathing her chaotic life into this long yet quiet sigh.

Edges of vision blurred but she sees mom washing the dishes, that glare which meant she was in trouble. Sitting in the corner after school. Soap.

Plastic wheels of the toy car run over the uneven gruff path of the streets as Dad watches the news of the latest celebrity gone gay, the politician that didn’t make it and the weather. Quiet breeze.

“Stand in front of the line” said her teacher, flustered feet find their place where flashes of barbie pink and dirty hands are on display under the scorching heat. Playground.

Passing the remote to her, grabbed and played with. In a daze by the mundane participants on Jeopardy. Bahrain, Channel 55.

Erasing the last line on the paper, fat Jiji turned around and offered her a pen. Geography class.

Basket of fruits, jade bracelet and the big woven hat. A birthday she remembered. Singapore.

“People actually live here?” Sweating inside the elevator shut by a door just to reach the third floor. Siblings huddled together as each level gave them a few rays of light. 2001.

Wearing a black Audrey Hepburn dress and her first makeup set on trial. Limousines lined up for everyone’s entrance. Just friends. Prom.

Memory spins through two decades worth of her life with peaks and lows. No sound, just a visual flash of moments and words mouthed. She made no move and said nothing. Her body barely covered by the floral patterned blanket.

Quiet.

“Dancing with you all alone in the dark, it’s a beautiful world…” as the song brings her back from then. She felt no sorrow or a trace of happiness, the flash seemed like a finger dipped into water with a slow and subtle playful swirl. And amidst the silence and the empty of her, she feels an urge. The kind that grew once you address its presence, its longing begs for more attention. Like a tick, it made her insides groan and awake in her last few breaths.

The stillness of the silent moment swooshes to her feet twitching. Rain.