Through the tears of tamed mustangs
I just guessed recently
That you have neither a necklace nor a mango
They are not needed, and I would rather stay.
– I’m going.
– And I?
– Himself.
One Again. Wet and cold. I’m not surprised. Not so with me. Others have it worse. I’m getting more air, I’m patient. I’m thinking where to get a potion of reversal. Drink everything yourself, don’t share with anyone. Take it and dive into the world. Stay there. Where everything will be like in the negative, just like here, only the opposite. Instead of anger, acceptance, instead of rejection, the joy of meeting, instead of deception, sincerity and warmth, instead of loneliness, the desire to feel and share something good, even if hastily invented.
Yellow paradise with February turquoise
Blinds our northern vision,
It’s a pity that you can’t take all the flowers with you
Tobi from fancy trees.
A dull thump brought me out of my stupor.
– Do you remember only one thump when the right side of your car was completely smashed from start to finish?
Actually only one. I still remember it was cold and, it seems, very wet. I remember how I trembled with small and large tremors and kept asking the world, what is wrong with me? He answered as best he could. Scandals, feelings of inner and outer loneliness, people who removed themselves, creating a vacuum around me and my claims – why don’t You give me what I want? I just want peace and quiet, or happy excitement, just something with a plus sign by my standards. But you are wise, it seems, to give what you think is very necessary for me.
– What conclusion do you draw from all this?
– That the world does not warn when it strikes…
– Or oh?
And that’s true. What am I? He saved me so many times that it is impossible to say that, even now. And when she jumped off the bridge, and when she hung out in foreign cities and countries, and when she let into the lives of those from whom she should run without looking back. Saved me from condemnation and indignation, from destruction and various losses, including the loss of memory, which I have been asking for cowardly and senselessly for as long as I can remember.
– What should I do?
– Sniff the world!
-What?! Nonsense, nonsense, stupidity! Is it reasonable to breathe once in a while, not to remember what I did an hour ago, not to understand how I got from point A to point B, not to hear sounds, not to see the truck that almost ended my senseless life?! …And I started sniffing, simply inhaling air with my nose, blowing my nostrils like a suffocating horse. Mechanically, without thinking. It’s like this is my last chance to connect with Him, when we’re one-on-one. At first, nothing like that happened, and then suddenly… He is Peace, the smell! Raspberry tea, plastic and humidity of the subway, cherry cigarettes, sidewalk dust, street noise with exhaust fumes, powdered theater makeup and a mixture of spring butterflies and wet grass. I began to distinguish small smells that I had not noticed before. And then I did one more thing – I started walking, it sounds strange, but the difference is huge, not just mechanically moving your feet, but walking consciously and thoughtfully, even without thinking, when you feel the sneakers with your feet and know exactly that you are hitting the ground with them. That the earth at this time breathes and bends and that if you open your eyes and look at it under your feet, it will turn out to be alive.
And then, very much later, I looked up and saw how a plum-raspberry sunset was spread out there in the gray sky, and I found that if you turn your head to the sides (a higher level, so to speak), it turns out that the streets, cobbled and not very, with old authoritative houses and young “green” high-rise buildings, and very small dilapidated houses, which, although crumbling, but cheerful, do not seem to be alive either, the windows blink, the flowers on the windowsills boast, and behind every glass (I would not have believed it before) there is life. and overflows with colors and dirty spring streams, various aromas and charming promises, that everything desired will happen somehow, somewhere, sooner or later, but necessarily with everyone, the main thing is not to lose your sense of smell 🙂
It’s a pity, you can’t get the wind in your hand
And a cascade that slithers with a snake.
But maybe I’ll paint the evening
With bright red, plowed land.
