What Is Love?
Carlos loved the Aztec princess. At first it was just lust. When his housemate put the calendar up he hardly noticed. But one day, eating his cereal at the kitchen table he began to see her, yes truly see her hanging there on the wall next to the phone...her juicy body. Soft succulent limbs, warm giving form. He imagined himself as a midwestern prince who would be given her hand in marriage, of kissing her passionately on her ruby red lips...soft Nahuatl words murmured from her mouth.
In January it was only lust. By February he noticed the language barrier. By March, she had begun to speak a few words of English. She was demure and yet spunky, honest but sympathetic. In April, he began to realize it was love. Occasionally, at dinner parties his friends would notice him glance up at her picture. They ridiculed him, calling her 'the Aztec showgirl.' How he hated to hear his crude friends speak of how hot she was. Or even worse--to politically analyze or deconstruct the content of the picture.
Their scorn could not interrupt his dreams. As the warm days of May came he longed to walk with her through the verdant fields, to take her with him on blueberry picking jaunts. He imagined her moist lips stained with the juice of the berries. He no longer fantasized about her in a disrespectful way. Their connection was much too deep for that. Rather, he thought of sensual moments where they only touched one another's skin...of complete spiritual understanding.
It hurt him to leave her for a month in the summer. He left reassured that she was his and his alone...that he would return and she would be there. On the kitchen wall, waiting patiently for him. Lonely but uncomplaining.
The fall came. He was busy with work but he always saved a little time for her each day. He saw that the time was coming where he would have to leave her again for Christmas. Again, he trusted in her faithful heart, her gentle soul, her pure and trusting love for him.
Upon his return he was horrified to find that the Aztec showgirl was replaced by another. A saucy Spaniard with a frilly mantilla. January, 2001 it said.
Where's the calendar? he asked his housemate. Trying to be casual though his voice broke slightly.
"Oh, I got a new one for new year."
"But what did you do with the old one."
"I threw it out. Sorry I didn't know you wanted it." This was his kinder. less nosy housemate--there was no condemnation or undue curiosity in the voice.
While he could not see her everyday he never forgot her for as long as he lived. She was within him, guiding him, living in his heart forever.
It's true she was just a girl on a calendar but somehow she was so much more.
Carlos loved the Aztec princess. At first it was just lust. When his housemate put the calendar up he hardly noticed. But one day, eating his cereal at the kitchen table he began to see her, yes truly see her hanging there on the wall next to the phone...her juicy body. Soft succulent limbs, warm giving form. He imagined himself as a midwestern prince who would be given her hand in marriage, of kissing her passionately on her ruby red lips...soft Nahuatl words murmured from her mouth.
In January it was only lust. By February he noticed the language barrier. By March, she had begun to speak a few words of English. She was demure and yet spunky, honest but sympathetic. In April, he began to realize it was love. Occasionally, at dinner parties his friends would notice him glance up at her picture. They ridiculed him, calling her 'the Aztec showgirl.' How he hated to hear his crude friends speak of how hot she was. Or even worse--to politically analyze or deconstruct the content of the picture.
Their scorn could not interrupt his dreams. As the warm days of May came he longed to walk with her through the verdant fields, to take her with him on blueberry picking jaunts. He imagined her moist lips stained with the juice of the berries. He no longer fantasized about her in a disrespectful way. Their connection was much too deep for that. Rather, he thought of sensual moments where they only touched one another's skin...of complete spiritual understanding.
It hurt him to leave her for a month in the summer. He left reassured that she was his and his alone...that he would return and she would be there. On the kitchen wall, waiting patiently for him. Lonely but uncomplaining.
The fall came. He was busy with work but he always saved a little time for her each day. He saw that the time was coming where he would have to leave her again for Christmas. Again, he trusted in her faithful heart, her gentle soul, her pure and trusting love for him.
Upon his return he was horrified to find that the Aztec showgirl was replaced by another. A saucy Spaniard with a frilly mantilla. January, 2001 it said.
Where's the calendar? he asked his housemate. Trying to be casual though his voice broke slightly.
"Oh, I got a new one for new year."
"But what did you do with the old one."
"I threw it out. Sorry I didn't know you wanted it." This was his kinder. less nosy housemate--there was no condemnation or undue curiosity in the voice.
While he could not see her everyday he never forgot her for as long as he lived. She was within him, guiding him, living in his heart forever.
It's true she was just a girl on a calendar but somehow she was so much more.
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