by Nathaniel Anacta
I have met feminists. I have talked with them and I have seen them at march. Like a sunless forest in all its colors, meandering shadows under firebellied tree leaves, cherry blossoms and all. Caped green, she sat red chalk splattered, shirt off, under laces (BRA I mean) tidily clipped off – like a dirty fingernail. Fun though – the entirety of it. The sikh onstage riding a turban wailing on mic – blasting – “For what reason must a person turn down the volume?”.
“For my eardrums – damn you!” Retorted I.
So – yellow haired (not from the Holli Spiced powders – rather au- naturel), naked but for alabaster whites both top and bottom rows, pretty blue pairs and licorice straw hair. She bolted up with the DJ, and smeared orange powder on the two –
The Uncovered twins.
Well, the humble I, must walk through the crowd, rejoined Pawel- a friend- delighted he, to see a painted grin on me.
Painted I say again.
My attention though was on her.
Girly of course- mustn’t look at the whats – so met I her two blues, and saw white dots, like a crossed pattern on her athletic face.
I mean pretty as I met her face, painted like an aussie aborigine. And her smile – like the pretty side of aussie land.
“I can smell the Cigarettes on you” I jived. And the gasoline among the jasmine scented pyre of funeral heat beared by gyrating 20 something bodies. But I left that out.
“Don’t make this weird Nathaniel,” Pawel floundered from behind.
The sad follows you – year in year out. My sad. But this funny feminist bearing all above the waist (she was pretty though – the face, smile, and body –and though not very gifted the blonde was enough to show me a day). Winking I give you.
Yes. I’ve been told. I need a bit of Sunny D. Licorice straw haired Sunny D. whichever way I get it haha.
I spent the latter part of the day feeling ear- knives and chest thumping basses. (Now they have to pay for it right?).
It was not a bad day.
