August as It Was

In a nutshell. Mood. Hump Day. Shenanigans. Not at the top of the mountain but not at the bottom either. Hanging on as always with a smile as life is for the living and no one can’t take that away from you. August as it was, thank you. A blessed and beautiful September dear ones. Make it worthy, the month of your breakthroughs. Faith is all we got; keep it alive. Much love!

Pretending

I want to find a name who will give me a hand, carve my eyes, contour my head, dress my stomach, feel my heart and dance me a mean tango.

I want to wink at a robot who will pump harder then the midnight train, zigzag faster then a gazelle, flash the colors of the rainbow and mimic the hurricane rain.

I want to smile at a body who will read me stories, corner me at the photo stand, whisper me a melody and buy me one mean gelatto.

I found him yesterday on the artist table. Curly hair, luscious teeth, colourful feathers, standing slim and tall, dressed like a roaster in aluminum foil, a comic book character of sorts laying under a pencil of an illustrative page.

©️Angela Aguiar

A Joint and a Trip

I have been telling God that I wanted to be in a hotel room all by myself on the beach, close my eyes to the wind, lay flat on the bed like a piece of gum, without a care in the world, just laying there, like Mr potatohead, watching the rainbow go by, shooting at flies pissed at the rain.

I have, for ages, I promise but it seemed to die on thin air on the transatlantic railroad.

I asked and I asked the bellman, the concierge, the fruitloop dressed like a bodyguard at the corner store to give me a sign. I begged my soul keeper to decree a heaven’s gate, a place to drip the scrambled eggs on any given omelette as I fought the alligators on the prowl. I did but no answer.

Instead, I woke from the dream, feeling more like a contessa then a princess, in a hotel somewhere in the middle of the ocean, laying flat on a palm tree, legs dangling like a yoyo, on a full belly, my heart racing like a leopard, margarita on hand, vegetable cigarette on the other, drunken stupor from a lemon juice overdose. I don’t know who was driving this joint but it surely felt like a trip to me.

©️Angela Aguiar