past life : two : calypso
The first moment I saw you I knew I wanted to know you. The first time I touched you I knew, I already did. When you took my hand and looked into my eyes, in that split second I knew a lifetime. I don't know if it was the grip or the sea glass green of your eyes but something in that instant brought it all back. As we stood there suspended between movements, I remember thinking of your grip and how, if I were falling over a cliff or had slipped off the edge of a building and someone had reached out to save me, yours was the grip I would want upon me; so strong, so certain; unbreakable. A grip that says, "I'm here and I won't let go"; a bond in blood and bone, an oath of fingertips and folding flesh, a promise. And I hadn't felt all that in a very, very long time. Held in your grip, sea glass eyes upon me and suspended between movements, time tore open and I slipped through.
We were rough and tumble, spirited boys, orphaned by families we never knew, surviving on the streets and shorelines of some coastal Italian village. We were twelve, an age caught between innocence and awakening. I knew two things well: survival and beauty (well three things if I counted you). We had run away from the orphanage, again. Though it provided warm meals and warm beds and warm baths we could not stand the boredom or the structure and it kept us from the things we loved. You were in love with movement; constant frenetic movement. I was in love with the ocean, the birds that dove into it, the clouds that drifted above it and you. Besides, you didn't much care for baths you preferred dirt beneath your nails and the smell of fresh earth on your skin and sand in your shoes. Even when the jiggers got bad you never complained as long as you had your freedom. Still, I would make you take your cloths off so I could wash them in the ocean and beat them clean while you swam naked and tireless amongst the waves. I could lie out on those rock for hours warming myself with our cloths, just watching you swim. Two of my loves combining, one washing over the other; skin turning to liquid, liquid becoming flesh, all rippling and parting, you were so strong and beautiful and impatient. Incapable of stillness, it seemed your body never stopped working. Mine never stopped musing. I could never stop picking up pretty pebbles, examining them and filling my pockets, following the swooping and swirling play of sea birds, feeling the soft abrasiveness of sand upon skin or watching you. You could never stop moving long enough to muse over anything. I never knew why you were in such a hurry and you could never figure out what was taking me so long. We were an odd pair but every time you left the orphanage you took me with you. I think you knew I would have died if you left me behind.
We caught fish out on the docks when we could find string and hooks and worms or we just stole them out of the buckets of others. We would grab rolls off the vendors cart as we swiftly ran past. We were quick and quiet and there was rarely a chase. We would sneak up on lovers in the park and steel their half emptied bottles of wine while they were engaged in more engrossing activities. We were good at this game. At night we would build fires on the beach and stretch out under the infinite sky. It seemed the universe was our home and no warm bed could compare to that. When the rains came we would huddle under stairs or back alley awnings. These nights were less pleasant but we managed to keep each other warm and there was something oddly fulfilling about the necessity of such closeness.
We tried working one summer, rode a wagon out to where the olive groves were and got on a picking crew. The rows upon rows of olive trees provided a new level of beauty-gazing for me. I'd never seen such symmetry, it was unsettling the way everything lined up so perfect; dizzying and strange. But my eyes were mesmerized by the brilliant darkness of the green and the richness of the wet brown wood. The smell of earth and olives made me salivate and the idea of a little change in my pocket rather than just pretty pebbles excited me a bit. But once we started working my enthusiasm quickly waned. There was no time to gaze or smell or contemplate or salivate. There was only a dull constant repetition that made my body want to abandon itself. Why would anyone do this for hours on end day in and day out? There was no sweetness here and no sense and no freedom. We did not belong here. We were not good at this game and it was no fun to play. We lasted maybe a little over an hour then we heard the train coming. You whispered in my ear "time to go". We shoved handfuls of olives into our pockets and ran. Once we reached the slow moving train you hopped on easily turned and extended your arm and pulled me up with a grip strong, certain and unbreakable. A grip that says "I'm here and I won't let go"; a bond in blood and bone, an oath of fingertips and folding flesh, a promise... And as you pulled me up and in, I fell into you and we tumbled back landing hard on that train car floor, my body pressed against yours, your olive encrusted teeth laughing up at me and I felt a whole new longing I'd never known before.
That winter was hard. The rains came early and stayed longer and the wind blew colder and water swelled more and over turned boats and flooded streets. We started stealing more and more so we could occasionally get a room and a bath and escape the icy ravaged claws of winter that seemed to be coming for us. We started getting daring, we started getting noticed, we started getting chased. You seemed to like the chase. It gave you a thrill and added challenge and dimension to the game of survival. You had to think on your feet and implore evasive tactics. You knew all the alleys, their twists and turns; the narrowing ones and dark ones, the ones they wouldn't chase you down and the ones you could lose them in. The cobblestone streets of our town were a giant game board to you and you really were good at this game.
And then there was the time; the first time, the time when you changed everything. We made our escape two turns down an alley, a darken doorway, they ran right past. We knew they would not come back after us, we never took anything that important. We were catching our breath, backs against the cold brick alley wall when you suddenly threw your weight against me and said "Don't move". I was stunned, scared and excited all at the same time. The weight of you against me felt wonderful and strange and then you started undoing my pants, "What are you doing?" I protested unmoving. "Shhhh," was your only response and before I knew it you were on your knees with my penis in your mouth. I didn't know what to do or think or say. How did you even come up with such an idea? I know back at the orphanages some of the boys would tease each other about touching it late at night after lights out. I never much cared for that. It felt only mildly pleasurable and it seem more interesting to me to just lay and think about the water or clouds or you. But this, this was something completely different. This was a whole new level of beautiful. This was a feeling I never expected, never imagined never knew was possible. This was sweet and torturous all wrapped into one. I didn't know what to do with myself; some part of me wanted to rip away, push you off, make you stop. It was too good, it couldn't be right, but I couldn't bring myself to make it stop. I became frantic for something to grip if only I could bury my fingers into the hard bricks of the wall behind me. I needed something anything, for certainly my knees would not hold out. Everything in me caught fire while it seemed someone was taking my skin off and dropping into an ice bath. I wanted to laugh but felt more like crying or screaming or both and for just a moment I thought I might actually die. I thought this might actually be killing me and I was actually ok with dieing except I didn't want this to end. All the ripples in the water and the swooping of the birds; Herons with Bass in their peaks and the 354 variants of green in the ocean and the wispy ways of furtive clouds; all the beauty I had seen with my eyes were nothing compared to the beauty now invading my body; the breath of me exhaling all of time and space through my small mouth and core of me slowly contorting into a super nova, I was colliding into myself and there was no way around it. Something had to give. And it did and everything in me let go and I knew the way I experienced life would never be the same. Life was no longer about survival and beauty it was now about survival, beauty and this.
And then I heard you spiting something out on to the ground and I remembered that you were the bearer of this incredible gift and I wanted to thank you but words seemed impossibly small and before I could even manage to open my eyes your breath was in my ear and you said "pull up your pants - you look kinda stupid." and then you were walking away. I pulled up my pants and ran after you. "Wait" I implored "don't I get to do that to you."
"Sure" you replied, "after we find something to eat... and some wine... I need to get this taste out of my mouth".
Later we would make a fire on the beach and I would lie you down and slowly take your pants off. It seemed awkward at first, but I was determined to take my time, savor every inch of you, every minute of you; take in every stray scent and sound. I wanted to listen to the hairs on your thighs and the upturning of your toes and the expanding of your chest and the crinkling of your skin. I wanted to hear the music of your spine and your clavicle and your optical nerves. I wanted to listen to your heart and find the sounds that occur beyond the beating. I wanted to take all of you in with your penis; I wanted all of you in my mouth. But I could tell you were restless and growing impatience with me. This was the way it was between us. We were an odd pair. You, always in motion, always in a hurry to get nowhere and so impatience to begin doing nothing, and when we found something to do you would do it for hours on end, tirelessly, while I would watch and listen and smell and be content to oh so slowly take it all in. But we matched each other in desire and intensity and passion and this is what made it all work. I loved taking you into me. It seemed I could not get enough of you in and as I slowly let you out, I selfishly hoped this would take a very long time. As you grew bigger and your body wavered with pleasure I felt my self start to swell. I felt my own body begin to ach and moan with a kind sweet joy. It seemed this pleasure was not bound by the laws of time and space, there was no need for a linear chain of physically connected events. It boggled my mind as my penis got harder as your penis got harder and I struggled to keep my rhythm slow and consistent when everything in me wanted to move impossibly fast. But I would make you wait for it, make us wait for it, I wanted it to last, just incase this never happened again.
But it would happen again; time and time again. We still did what we had to do and what we were use to doing, but any chance we got we wiggled out of our bottoms and took each other in. You became more and more aroused by the back alleys and dark city crevasses and the exhilaration brought on by the chase, I preferred the fires on the beach or the nights when we could afford rooms and could take our sweet time fucking each other over and over and over.
We survived that harsh winter but I had developed a disturbing chronic cough, which blossomed into a frightening fever by spring. As I got steadily worse you became panicked. If you took me to the hospital we would end up back at the orphanage at best and more likely in jail as our antics were getting us more and more noticed. But if you didn't, you feared the worse. I begged you not to take me in. "Just hold me," I pleaded "And let the universe decide my fate." You held me, still and silent and stoic, hoping I could not sense your fear. And when you thought I was asleep you cried. It was the only time I felt stillness in you and the only time I saw you cry. The next day my fever broke.
That summer was the most wondrous time of our short existence together. We frolicked on the beach and spent as much time in the water as our skin would allow. The sun baked us brown and our hair grew as wild and untamed as our hearts and limbs. We lavished around like kittens with nothing to do but suckle and sleep. Unfettered we experienced what I now know to be an oh so rare slice of real unexploited uninterrupted uncomplicated and unconventional pure and simple life. So few complete lives get to know this freedom. We were fortunate. We were still young and we knew true happiness. We did not know how fortunate we were.
By fall you vowed I would have a proper coat for winter. One especially nippy night you wandered off with out a mention and came back a few hours later with a wool coat a gentlemen's watch and bloody knuckles. You told me when he wouldn't give you the coat you had to follow through with your threat and hit him until he stopped moving. "Why did you take the watch?" I asked. You just shrugged, dropped it on the sand took off you blood splattered shirt and laid down by the fire. I rinsed out your shirt and wrapped your hand in it so it wouldn't get infected and laid down behind you. I think we both knew you had crossed a line and could never go back. We could never go back.
I remember lying awake all night that night just staring at your back. Not your whole back just the way the moonlight highlighted a certain six inches of your shoulder. I stared at the bronze muscled six inches of you until I couldn't take it anymore and kissed you there. I kissed you there harder and harder. Harder and harder I kissed your shoulder and then moved up the back of your neck. You did not move until I buried my face into the back of your head and began to cry. You did what you did for me. I made you cross that line. I made you a criminal. You turned, took my face in your hands and kissed me. We had never kissed before. We had kept it all from the waist down. It was all about pleasure. We never talked about it and we never kissed, until that night. And that night we kissed all night, all over, until our lips cracked and split and the sun rose and our bodies melted. Then we slept in each others arms till the sun went back down again. We still never talked about it and we never kissed again.
A few days later we were walking around town in need of food when somebody spotted us. I was wearing the coat, you were wearing the watch. We were stupid, I don't know why we were so stupid, we were young and we were stupid and we would pay for it. But for now we ran still thinking we were invincible. Into the dark twisting ally, a swift left, a dark crevasse in the wall and they ran past. Around another corner and we were free. You took the coat off me and put the watch in the pocket carefully stowing it under some stairs. We would come back for them when it was safe. We should have run then. They were still looking. It wasn't like stealing loose change or bits of food they would keep looking this time.
I started running but you called me back, you had your pants down, you were begging me back, already hardening from the chase. "No" I begged but you were so beautiful in your wanting so irresistible and lovely and I wanted you in me. I ran back to you fell to my knees and thrust you in my mouth hoping I could make you come quickly but you stopped me, "Slowly you said, gently, like you do by the fire". I melted at your request and forgot where we were and how we got there. I remember now, how silent everything suddenly became. I could hear every hair on your thighs and the upturning of your toes and the crinkling of your skin and straightening of your spine and the reaching of your fingers and the flapping wings of birds skimming the water for food, and the ocean washing upon the shore and clouds moving across the sky and the tears moving slowly down my face and I told you in my head all the things I never dared to say. I told you that I loved you and that I didn't know what I would do with out you, I told you that I would never love anyone else as long as I lived the way I loved you. I told you that if I had the chance to go back and have a family and live in a big house with a mother and father and a glowing fire every night in the kitchen and good food and warm beds. Even if it were a very rich family and I had fine fine things. I wouldn't do it, I wouldn't go back, I would stay right here I wouldn't trade any minute of being with you... that was when I first felt your hand on my head. You were trying to push me away but I would not give, I had to finish, I had to make you come I had to make you understand. You gave in a few seconds longer and let out a beautiful aching moan before finally pushing me off and pulling me swiftly up to your face and whispering "RUN" and pushing me away. "What" I stumbled backwards and then noticed they were there staring just staring, stopped momentarily at the sight of us and the audaciousness of our actions. But the stupor was wearing off and they were moving towards us. You would never get away with your pants at your ankles. I started back towards you when you yelled with suck fierce pleading "Run just run" I stopped "RUN" you screamed at me. I spun on my heals, swallow hard and ran as fast as I could. I heard a loud crack and you called out but I did not stop running.
Later I would go back to that spot. There was blood in the alley, someone had tried to wash it away but there was too much of it. It pooled and dried. I retrieve the coat, the watch was still in the pocket.
There were street rumors that you were sent to the hospital and some kindly nurse took pity on you and took you in. Other say you were sent back to the orphanage where you decided you should stay. Others insist you got away and ran off to Rome or Florence where you became a skilled pickpocket and lived quite well. I knew none of these were true. I knew if you had lived you would have come back for me. I know you would have. Nothing would have kept you away.
On my own, I was not a very good thief and working never did suit my constitution. I somehow survived, mostly off of older men who would take me in from time to time in exchange for certain favors. By the time I rose from my depression and realized I should go back to the orphanage and learn a trade, I was too old to do so. I had barely made it out of my teens when I was stabbed in a back alley by a trick looking for some extra cash. He got away with a few lire and a gentlemen's watch. Funny I too should die with my pants around my ankles.
And now, here, today you stand before me, a curious and bright beauty with sea glass green eyes, and arm extended. Still got that grip and that love of movement within you. Perhaps this is the end of our encounter, perhaps I was just meant to remember and recount and we will pass and move on. Still I would like to see you in firelight. I think I could spend the better part of an evening just staring at six inches of a shoulder and resisting the want to kiss.
