Winged Shoes and a Shield: Collected Stories by Bajema Don

Author:Bajema, Don [Bajema, Don]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9780872865945
Publisher: City Lights Publishers
Published: 2012-10-23T05:00:00+00:00

I was impressed with his self-possession. He’d been dealt a strong hand, or at least had the confident manner that implied he had access to one. He had an attitude of expectation that followed an adherence to some type of code. I couldn’t remember it. He stared at me for what seemed like years. During those decades it became apparent that he was locked in a struggle, completely misplaced in the bowels of my own prison. He told me I had introduced his torturers as my guests. I tried to apologize. He laughed and said, “Save it. You’ll need it later.” He stood there mocking what I had become, while he inhaled honor and exhaled humility. He told me I hadn’t listened to anyone but the voices planted in my own head by my own disrespect: “Ya turned on me.” At the precise instant I tried to use him as something to envy, continuing to poison what remained of my soul, he interrupted me with a wave of his hand. He turned his head suddenly as though he had heard a summons. I blacked out.

I wanted a drink. I wanted to wear old boots and find a sawdust floor and exchange a glance with a hungry woman. I wanted to find the unspoken promise and set the trap. I wanted to fall. I wanted to burn. It almost doubled me over. If I couldn’t play it, I wanted to hear it. If I couldn’t have it, I wanted to see it. If I couldn’t do it, I wanted to fake it. It felt like the last twenty years of my life had vanished. The kid’s voice: “Weak. You forgot the seasons, you forgot to breathe in the available air.” I began to whine in embarrassment. The kid asked me with an incredulous tone, “What happened to you?” I blacked out.

“He’s gonna come back.” I didn’t know if it was a promise or a warning. I began to feel the pain of circulation coming back to frozen limbs. A dreadful and welcome pain. Almost too much to stand. As she continued speaking I opened my eyes to her retreating face. She stood far out in the middle of a dance floor. I walked to her and wrapped my arms around her; the fit seemed perfect. Shadows danced around us, most of them limping and trying to support each other. I could smell blood and disease. I heard muffled sobbing. The mists covered us again. I’d forgotten how beautiful she was. Her face changed gradually from one girl to another, from the girls I had known to the women I wanted to know. The process seemed to take hours. Her body constantly crossed the line and became mine, and pulled away and became her own. I was on the edge of orgasm.

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