Saturday, November 13, 2010


i remember a postcard.. a picture of venice, a man on a gondola playing to a couple, and in the other side a word written with lipstick,

"Memory". And that is all that i had of him.. I did'nt know what i was searching for, maybe of a love long lost, of an acquantaince i had forgotten,of an enemy i had forgiven.. But i knew i had to find her.. I hitched a ride from Texas to Philly.. The dRiver was polite, he called me Sir and offered to drive me witout any charge at all.. I had a fleeting glimpse of her on the highway, i can't remember her features, too blurred. I sat down in a coffee shop in louisianaville, there was a kid sitting there who reminded me of my own youth.. Of my wasted years, spent on booze and drugs..I told him to cherish the time he had and not waste it, he told me to Fuck Off. It has been weeks, or rather months since I have been out on the road looking for her.. I do not khow anymore of what i hope to achieve. It is her memory that drives me, to never stop for a moment of respite. I must journey on.. That postcard, the perfect love that the couple shared, the word on the reverse.. That is all i had to keep me going. That is all i was in love with. I was driving down Missisipi on a truck, with a genmtleman who wanted to sleep with me, though i rebuked his advances. I was looking for Her, though by now i had lost any idea of who she really was, i was in love with the idea of who she could be, for me. I sat down at a gas station for cheap fries and a cup of stale coffee, the waiter decided to overlook my cheap clothes and gave me enough respect, he calle me Ma'am and asked me if I was going somewhere particular, he could give me a ride. But by then i had lost all hope of meeting him. his vision all but a mirage of a future that i hoped to attain but never could.. Maybe that was all life had to offer, a fleeting glimpse of the ideal. My love, why do you shirk away from me, why lurk in the corners? In the hope of achieving the unattainable I lose out on all that life offers. But i am not sad, nor disillusioned. I am still driven by the thirst of being one with her. She would make me complete. As I ride out of a Cafe in Illinois, i see a postcard flutter lazily by me, i catch it in my hands,, It is a postcard of a couple serenely riding in a gondola.. It brings back a distant memory in my mind but i can't quite grasp it. I take out my lipstick and scrawl a single word on the reverse side, "Memory"..

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