INTRODUCTION
STORIES FROM THE ROAD
Christmas in Bromsgrove
Rambling in Colorado
TRAVELOGS
Hello you,
I know it’s rather last minute but I left you a message. I just wanted to get away for a while, an adventure, and an exploration. I would’ve invited you but…! Last night I threw a few clothes, a sleeping bag and a couple of things to eat in the back of the Toyota. This morning it was coffee and go. Just what I needed after those last messages.
ABIQUI RESEVOIR; it is devoid of other people. The water is cold, its overcast, and calm. And I splash myself face neck and hair. A morning wake up call. Walking barefoot in the sand is wonderful. I check the water’s edge for the sludge factor that made you squirm so, would you be able to get in this to go windsurfing with me? Perhaps that is a mute question anyway…
You said we walked a thin line the other day. It’s true. I was shaking.
Aged 8: traipsing through the fields at my gran’s farm with my big cousin, Nanette. “Careful!” and she points. My foot is hovering above a crusty cow dung patty. I step into it. It squishes. “Why did you…?” I answer that I wanted to see what it was like inside. “Don’t judge a book by its cover” I laugh quoting Gran to her.
I had a lover who only wanted us to be naked together a la carte, so to speak. No side dressings. Same time, same place, same moves. “Get your knickers off Sleam, it’s that time again.” She wondered why our sex life lost its vigor.
I had a lover who only wanted us to be naked together a la carte, so to speak. No side dressings. Same time, same place, same moves. “Get your knickers off Sleam, it’s that time again.” She wondered why our sex life lost its vigor.
Daisy drinks from within the rock pools. Even though I heard the rain last night I would never guess looking at the parched ground.
SOUTH OF PAGOSA SPRINGS; 20 mile south of Pagosa on highway 84. It’s the four-letter word that catches me each time. There is a line of cars and trucks waiting for the flagman to let us move through the valley. To my right is national forest road. “Buck lake road.” Lake? Hmm…I pull over, let Daisy out and then follow her wagging tail up the dirt lane. Ponderosas. Thickets of oak. Aspen groves. Meadows. When daisy’s tongue is scraping the floor I pull over and park. This will be our first of many detours. A bowl of water for her, half a melon for me.
Tall bright sunflowers grabbed my attention.
“What are you doing Sleam?”
I climb out to the truck,” you don’t have any of these yet do you?”
You looked at the bunch I’d picked earlier for you, and shake your head with a smile so wide. Wiping off the bugs I hand them to you. Your eyes are so tender when you receive these romantic touches.
“What are you doing Sleam?”
I climb out to the truck,” you don’t have any of these yet do you?”
You looked at the bunch I’d picked earlier for you, and shake your head with a smile so wide. Wiping off the bugs I hand them to you. Your eyes are so tender when you receive these romantic touches.
HIGHWAY 84 is littered with such flowers as tall as you. I want to pick them all for you, weighted down by armloads I imagine showing up at your doorstep…
High mountains on either side. I sit in the shade with my notebook in hand. Last year I came up to southern Colorado to get away from an inevitable break up. This time I simply had no work, and I had a desire to hit the road, to explore the world around me near and far. It’s been too long since I relaxed and played, as is my nature. The day’s spontaneity with you woke me, stirred me up to the beauty of my life.
Daisy stands over me, dribbling onto my paper. It must be time for a walk then.
As we were walking in the national forest behind El Rito, you were about to take my photo. ‘Hang on, and look over here first,’ I say tempting you around the corner. You pause then follow me grinning. A waterfall splashes into a small pool next to us. I start to drop my shorts,’come on in!’ On a rock I sit with the water tumbling onto me. ‘Perfect’ you say, watching as the water trickles down my shoulders, back and breasts.
THE ANIMAL TRACKS take Daisy and I through this meadow and before us opens up a huge valley…wide open and deep. A hawk slowly climbs higher and higher, riding a wave, a breeze. Daisy leans into me, just as you did at Canjilon Lake, but when she sees a squirrel she’s off. I watch her explore the sights and smells of this wilderness, as I would like to explore you.
I had a love who taught me the joys of all the senses. She loved to explore. A sandwich made with layers of everything we found in her fridge became a sensual delight that ended in bed. Fed by her fingertips as you fed me carrot cake. The gentle lazy touch of my fingers across the long black hairs on her forearm. One morning we camped by a creek in the Gunnison national forest, and woke to find a herd of cows waiting for her pancakes. On the return drive through Ouray it was late and I was exhausted. The bike broke down. I couldn’t fix it. I was too tired. ‘We sleep here then’ I said expecting some complaints. She looked around, nodded and untied the sleeping bags. In the morning we discovered it was a slagheap we had slept on, right next to a campground. Luckily she laughed. I fixed the bike. We went for coffee.
A COOL BREEZE yet Daisy is still panting.
The urge to keep moving, whether at home or here in the woods has me in its grip. I have forgotten the art of sitting. My meditation practice is a theory not a reality. ‘Lazy bugger’ my mum said, as I would while away hours, just being, not doing. ‘What do you do all day?’ ask my friends since I work so little. When Pete, my brother came to stay with me in Cerrillos, the forty acres were so peaceful that he could hear the watch ticking in his pocket. We sat on the bench overlooking the arroyo, the mesa, with coffee in hand. The Santa Fe basin, some fifty miles wide our vista was of the Jemez Mountains to the west, the Galisteo mesa, from Madrid to Santa Fe and beyond. I used to spend hours, days even just staring out at all this. Now here I am in such wilderness yet I can’t sit still.
I adore her. I do. But once the romance wore off the fighting began. Even then we still made each other laugh. Sex, money, home, dreams, these were the themes of our disputes. ‘Why not me?” she’d ask. How am I meant to explain the workings of my libido? There seems no rhyme or reason if you ask me…
Last time we had sex: Fury lashed at me. She threw me down in the bed, suddenly a tiger of four feet 11 1/2 inches. She had me pinned. It wasn’t a game.
She hit me hard. I was terrified. I was nine years old. I froze.
How long that moment lasted I have no idea. I stood up and dressed in silence. I walked out of my lover’s house stunned by the intensity in the both of us. I took the dogs out into the snow ridden evening, I walked to the nearest park and I watched them play.
She hit me hard. I was terrified. I was nine years old. I froze.
How long that moment lasted I have no idea. I stood up and dressed in silence. I walked out of my lover’s house stunned by the intensity in the both of us. I took the dogs out into the snow ridden evening, I walked to the nearest park and I watched them play.
Blankets on the grass, I lie in the shade of a ponderosa. Standing with my nose pressed into its bark, the vanilla scent is faint.
There is making love. There is sex. And there is fucking.
Every touch, every whisper, every sense came alive when C----- and I played the naked games together. Every breath was in the pursuit of finding my way inside her.
When we made love, when I reached deeply into her body, her heart, she would cry.
A few months ago, I called her at home. Out of the blue I asked her why? Why did you cry under my touch?
There was a pause. “ I’d never been so loved.”
I hung up.
Every touch, every whisper, every sense came alive when C----- and I played the naked games together. Every breath was in the pursuit of finding my way inside her.
When we made love, when I reached deeply into her body, her heart, she would cry.
A few months ago, I called her at home. Out of the blue I asked her why? Why did you cry under my touch?
There was a pause. “ I’d never been so loved.”
I hung up.
Nap time. I’m tired. Sleepy. But first it’s time to move on for I need one more adventure today. Rain is coming.
One Tuesday afternoon I drove to her office downtown. She was in the middle of an informal meeting. I interrupted her, as I couldn’t afford to lose momentum. ‘ I’ll be over tonight, at six, okay?’
I knocked on the kitchen door and let myself in. She was lying in bed. Naptime with her had always been so sweet a temptation, yet today I sat near but not too near.
“I can’t do this anymore”
“ What?” A little kid squeak of a question.
‘This dance, the dance of back and forth, playing second fiddle to your other lovers…and being told I’m number one…I can’t do this to myself.”
I expected her rage, defenses screaming at me. She cried. “I’m sorry Sleam.”
We were quiet for a moment. She looked away, a tear dribbled off her chin onto the sheets. Only days ago I’d lain in with her in this bed. I left.
I haven’t slept with her since, although I’ve been tempted.
I knocked on the kitchen door and let myself in. She was lying in bed. Naptime with her had always been so sweet a temptation, yet today I sat near but not too near.
“I can’t do this anymore”
“ What?” A little kid squeak of a question.
‘This dance, the dance of back and forth, playing second fiddle to your other lovers…and being told I’m number one…I can’t do this to myself.”
I expected her rage, defenses screaming at me. She cried. “I’m sorry Sleam.”
We were quiet for a moment. She looked away, a tear dribbled off her chin onto the sheets. Only days ago I’d lain in with her in this bed. I left.
I haven’t slept with her since, although I’ve been tempted.
