Sunday, June 30, 2013

Mexico 1987, Part 4: Dirty Old Train

Oct 26
Off in the the distance are 2 pyramids of Teotihuacan. We're headed east out of Mexico City on a dirty old train, moving slow. There's a dirty little bushy kitten falling asleep on the floor under the seat in front of me. It wouldn't eat my saltines. I never met a cat who didn't like saltines. It's just beginning to warm up from the chill of morning. I had to get out of bed at 6am with a fully sprawled, fully naked man beside me, in the deepest stages of sleep, no kisses would wake him. Now I will dream of him; I'll be hungry for months . . .

The universe has sent me lots of help, friends, so far. Clearly I am moving in the right direction. I need to refigure my budget. Even w/people having paid for various meals, I've been spendthrifty. Now the kitten is in the middle of the aisle, curled up, eyes drooping, head dropping into sleep, with people walking down the aisle stepping over it, it doesn't move, must've found a warm spot.

Now La Palma. Now Irolo. We stop at each one, it'll be hours before arriving the 250 or so kilometers to Vera Cruz. There's a young boy singing a campesino song at the top of his lungs. Werner was so cute when he came home last night, very drunk, someone had taken his shirt, a beautiful light and dark coral red vertical striped silk shirt, and he was wearing their cheap white cotton shirt with blue stripes. It probably wasn't a cheap shirt. He hangs with some affluent people. I think I'm gonna undo my bags and send a few articles back, loosen and lighten my load, then I can BUY more CLOTHES HERE!!

This train ride turned out to be fabulous, scenery-wise, and I'm no longer enervated by it, even though these fucking stops seem to keep us forever from our destination. I feel like I've been on speed for days, or acid. Hallucinogenic sex. It's getting hotter and more humid, the climate that causes one to dream mad dreams. We went through some high misty mountains that rose green around us, out of nowhere. Now we're in the jungle, having left the dry flats. The composer in me is already writing a letter to Werner and the images get hotter the farther I get. It's gonna make a fever rise in him that he won't be able to put out until he cools the fire inside me. There are few men that I fully enjoy sex with, without inhibition, timidity, mistrust, when the shell is broken and there stands a person, not proud - no ego, just the soul and body. This man, his flesh, his bones on top of me, thrusting inside of me, his hot breathed moans from deep inside, has pushed me to some ecstatic hallucinogenic planet where the mind and the body truly lose themselves in each other.

No comments: