Part 54
Esto es un salvajismo; y qué!
By now you think of me as a Zorroesquè individual, sword 🗡️ on my right, ego everywhere else.
It's all ego, no sword.
Some bullshit I said got me into business class, aka first class for us classless people.
Hey you, my go to attitude, as if you should known me.
British Airways never disappoints, slipping my Adidas off, I reclined my seat and curled, and uncurled my toes, as I gulped half a flute of Perrier Jouet, and readied to be jettisoned home.
It had been a while since I had felt the colloquial stare, & I missed it; I missed being a Cuban in Miami.
Traveling is circular, whatever you are fleeing ultimately makes a date with you, and surrenders you to a duel 🤺 at dawn.
She had been the one I had fled from, as if distance played a role in matters of the heart.
A long sigh escapes me as I get caught in my own trap, my eyes swell up and moisten, and I I'm reminded that writing happens in the heart.
I was planning on arriving like a thief in the night, letting no one know my itinerary; but the champagne 🍾 kept flowing, and out of the blue I sent her a cryptic message.
Y tú de que vas?
She took over an hour to reply, I was beginning to question the WiFi signal on the airplane, but then I remembered that most don't jump when I say jump.
Might have been the visions of our legs wrapped around each others, or the Gray Goose that I had graduated to was starting to kick in.
Her reply was dry and filled with; you motherfucker. I can only imagine what goes through the minds of the women that come in and out of my life.
Just when they think I've become dust in the wind; I return to turn their lives upside down, as if there are pending matter to address.
There are always pending matters to address.
Like a corsair jumping from a galeón I made my way through the behemoth Miami airport; she whose name we will omit for the moment came up from the Key to get me.
To be continued.
