May Vandermark with her zebra - 1920s - Ringling Bros Circus
Last
night I dreamt of a girl on a zebra. I
didn’t sleep much that night, but I can
assure you there was joy in this dream. You want proof : the smile that adorned my
face when I looked in the mirror in the morning.
I saw a
zebra galloping through the streets. I heard a zebra galloping through the
streets. I remember that I wondered if there was a circus in town that
rented zebras to young girls. You must
admit, it’s a fair question. An ordinary question, but I am an ordinary person, though I admit a dusty spirit. As far as young girls are concerned, I am a
fool. I saw her go and thought : go
follow her.
In a park the zebra took a break, thank God, I was gasping for air. While he
chewed on some birch leaves, I managed
to kiss the girl. It didn’t take a lot of persuasion to agree to a kiss. It was a dream, remember. On her
cheek, on her eyes, in her neck. Oh so pale her skin was. The rest of her body was a blur.
While
the wind played in the foliage, we
danced a waltz. I can still feel her belly, I can see her looking up to
me. How long did the dance last…? Until the zebra whinnied, and I heard the clopping, he was ready to go,
how solemn can a sound be.
There
was but one question left : what’s your
destination, beautiful? She answered :
soon I will make the big crossing. When she said so, it was as if she already
withdrew. As if the developing of a photo was reversed. Chemistery!
I
demanded , I begged, it was of no use. She
mounted and kicked the horse. I watched her as she changed course.
She left the frame.
I
returned home. For days I stared at the horizon to see if they had arrived.
No comments:
Post a Comment