Brazilian Blues: Prologue
Sao Paulo, Brazil 10/25/2004 3:00 AM It's like a three step routine. First. The thoughts ring inside my head. Always on cue when my back meets with the surface of whoever's bed. "What's his name again?" "Maybe I shouldn't be here?" "What kind of guy is this anyway?" Second. He proceeds to begin his artful prowl.With eyes that scream seduction, yet holds the undertone of menace. A weird expression possessed only by men in this animal kingdom. Third. I hear the trees, I hear laughs, I hear the sound I love so much come to me in the night. And that is bliss. Then he kisses me; tonguing away the bliss I was thoroughly enjoying. So I focus on getting it back, I focus on it extremely hard. That way I can ignore the shabby pad with cans of "Cerveja" strewn around, and an awful smell of musty week-old milk. I can ignore the idea that this stranger I am now making love to... isn't really that cute. I look away from the looming elephant in the room that shows, obviously, he only wants me due to his jungle fever. I can overlook being just an object. I can numb the feeling in my gut that screams shame. I can get through it all.
