Fall in love
I walk in your footsteps
I did not see my beautiful gypsy for some days.
It was June, I went to the Spa with mom. I didn’t lose sight of her, she always had humming people around . She wasn’t really beautiful but she was an extrovert, red hair and a nice space between her front teeth.
I loved to discover mystical places, but mom didn’t like that at all. We found a compromise, I helped her with going to the Spa and shopping, in exchange, in the evenings, she quietly sat on the bench near the phone box, in that way I had her under control.
It worked with coins, during the day I stocked up and during the evening I closed myself in that transparent box like a dolly in a dutch showcase and phoned him.
He soon answered, I knew he was waiting for me.
We spent our evenings in long sensual conversations and it was wondrous. We hopelessly fell in love through the ether.
“I miss all your senses, don’t want once to regret not having kissed you enough, and we didn’t.
Come, sit on my lap, unfasten my belt, let me grab your hips, let me slide, I want to get lost in your smell.”
We whispered heavenly.
While we were trilling, somebody called him several times, there were people at home, but he didn’t answer, he was totally connected with my senses.
He told me that his friends wanted to help him make the best choice.
The best one wasn’t me, too young, I could need hard sex, better for him to find someone his age who could also clean the house.
One afternoon at the Spa we went to visit an ancient abbey from the thirteenth century, built with red Tuscan sponge stone and the inside columns made of white travertine and alabaster. The monks were singing Gregorian chants and I suddenly felt lightened, I was in contact with God. I wanted to stay some minutes more to improve that feeling but mom was pawing on the spot. She saw that I was in a mystic moment and refused to stay one minute longer. If I entered that church again, she would take the next bus.
I never could understand her and I think I never forgave her.
To make me forgive, she bought me a crêpe de Chine dress, transparent, pastel sand color and the whole cloth covered with a web of dark grey little flowers which put my dancers body into light.
I wore it the day I met my gypsy again. Even the wind helped with that staging. I stood on top of the stairs, my dress moved in the air, my desirous body trembled in the backlight.
When he appeared, his torso naked, sunburned, sweaty, his breath stopped.
He pushed me inside, pasted me to the wall and said
“Not one minute more, without knowing where you are.”