A Hidden Lover

ED, A Woman and a Bull, acrylic on canvas, 48X40, 2012

Shut down the engine and put feet on the ground. Walk a parallel trail. It leads through the law land and up into the highland, along the fast stream, across the rolling fields and crawls under the thick, dark, tall, smelly spruces. Here it gets too late and time to rush back, to get feet off the ground and start up the engine again.

Today the smell is strong, the shadows are dark, the trunks are tall, the fur is thick and I step into the interior of the spring. Does this trail ever end? Distant highway rings reality, but the voice of a single bird rings louder.  Someone lures, beckons, wants me there and I jump over another puddle. Fresh spruce sap makes me drunk and feeble at knees.  The bleeding trees. The heads of four tallest spruces are broken and dropped on the branches of surrounding trees.  I scan the ground for a fallen aircraft but find no wracked wings in the deep purple of rhododendron blossom.

In the future I brought you there. “It’s going to get a little wet,” I warned, “ the path never quite dries around here.” Your sandals sank, and you jumped over a puddle splashing ankles with dirt. With you I felt, as always, a little lonely except for a hidden lover. The day was hot. With you I felt, as always, a little guilty, apologizing for a long hike, promising that we are almost there.

I dropped my sandals on the sandy bank; you kept yours on. We walked into the creek. The floor was slanting towards the deeper end. Stunned with a sudden chill I paused watching you going under, fishlike, then flipping over and floating in the fast current to the bent trunk of leaning tree.  I made a few steps towards the opposite bank and fell tripped by an underwater rock.  I caught the bump of precipitous bank and grabbed it letting the rapid rinse the rest of me.

You floated by looking in the sky and bumping into occasional rocks. “I float with the speed of clouds in the sky,” you said, “want to try?” I didn’t trust the stream, but followed you learning to enjoy. After a few bumps I turned over and got onto my knees. In this position I brought myself up to the bank. The clouds of silky-smooth clay rose in the water where I touched the floor.  I broke a small lamp from the wall of the bank and squeezed it in my fist. Pale worms slithered between my fingers. I soaped clay onto my skin and lifted legs to dry. 

You passed me walking up the stream. “Look,” I said. You asked, “What's that?” I pointed to the bump, “It’s clay. Help me with my back,” and took the bra off. “Sure,” you said, and spread the clay over my back missing spots. “Did you cover it all?” I asked. “Yes.” “Do I look like a Greek goddess?” “Yes. “  I picked another lump. “Your turn,” I said and began smoothing your shoulders slowly progressing down to make your back shine like a Greek sculpture. Coming to the waist I pulled your shorts down. 

My palms get used to the clay. I smoothed a dent in the bank for a seat, spread some on my stomach and breast and fell back to dry. 

Naked in the day’s light you were a little shy. “Good,” you mumbled and glanced around, “the road is too close…” “ Don’t worry, everyone’s at the shore on the Forth of July, and who would want to walk in such a heat, anyway?” I was sitting in the throne of clay submerged in shallow water; you knelt making your way towards me, but slipped. Supporting myself on elbows, I moved towards you to ease your access. Clouds of clay around us spread thicker polluting clear stream at our feet.  My balancing act and your getting hard in cold water was so possible compare to our togetherness. 

I arched and faced exposed roots of fallen trees like thousand penises above my head. Old plastic bags from many floods were glued to some of them like used condoms. An emerald growth squeezed thousands penises in chocking embraces and poisoned them with thousands kisses.  Lamenting our indissoluble separateness I let out a soft moan. You froze, “Someone’s coming here!” “What? I hear nothing…” Slowly I lifted my head and locked eyes with a blond wagging lab.

Hastily cleaned of clay I turned the river bend to face the company.  “Your dog loves water as much as we do,” I said cheerfully, and pat the dog’s head, “yes, you, sweet, little doggie!” They saw our shirts on the bank, but I could tell that the sight of my bikini threw the lady off a little: she definitely though that it was out of place in given circumstances. Her husband, on another hand, looked at me favorably.

You entered the scene carried by the soft current with the speed of the clouds in the sky.  “My husband,” I explained. “He loves water!” “This is too creepy!” the lady cried. “Ah-ha-ha,” echoed her husband, “the water must be refreshing!”

You walked in front of me crossing the sandy bank. “Wait,” I plead, “ these shells hurt my soles!” “Put on your sandals,” you suggested. “I can’t,” I said, “I like to feel the ground with bare feet.”

The trees had lost their heads. I pointed at them to you, “What do you think has happened here?” I asked. “I don’t know,” you answered.