Scene From An Afternoon Inside - May 3, 2009

Twilight Electric Samba. Notes like swollen rivers flow through my window from the street band to the end stop of my ear and vibrate my bone. I do the two step from my kitchen partnered with a bowl of peaches and, as he sings, “Maria, I love you too much,” I pick up my own guitar to their tune; the frenetic beat of a man’s hands on drum skins – beating out the moves of Maria’s feet as her hips dictate attack and release. The soundstream overflows its banks and snakes into my living room, but our dance is cut short by rain – the new flood that crushes the streetsounds and replaces them with the skittish screams of young ladies caught in white sundresses jumping puddles. Our love-too-much is sunshine and sometimes rain. The two monsoons tug in an immiscible ebb that pushes and pulls and finally defeats, leaving me with only the thought of peaches – dulcet, blushed, and timorous on the branch, impossibly hiding from the eye of the picker.