Burning Man

The desert is flat, absolutely level save for the cracks in its pale yellow surface that rise and dip nearly unaccounted for. Surrounding the dried lake bed are purple mountains on all sides that hold us like a soup bowl that was drained of its contents long ago. Where fish once darted in deep currents, where green life once moved on the whim of the wind, there are now people dressed like mermaids and geodesic domes that shine colored strobes into the black night. Perhaps they might see us, maybe they’ll come like the skydivers and explore this civilization, the third largest city in Nevada that lives for one week. Like the small bacteria that once bloomed here, this is a temperamental state. There is a burst of life, birthed always in the hottest month of the year, and out come the children, naked and decorated in fur. With mohawks and spikes and goggles. The gates are open, and fucking and sucking begins. Libations pour from every orifice. Ice is the only commodity. In a city without need, tritons dance ‘til the soft morning sun taunts them to sleep. But I have always been of a different sort. I rise with the low thump of drums kissing my ear. They are in the distance, somewhere, and I rise naked from sleep with the desire to pull them inside. Where is the 4/4? On what wind do you ride? Calling me from slumber, I journey towards your source, the master in which you move, the hand which beats your skin. My bike is my friend, the companion that moves to my every whim, we move as one through the haze of early daylight, while the wind is still calm, while the mermaids sleep. The wind plays tricks, and I ride in circles looking for the drums. First north, then east, then north again. HOOOnnnnnn, HOOOnnnnnn!!! The sound of a water truck, the Jesus of the desert. The shower, the fountain, the orgasm. The horn calls, taking the front stage, grabbing the mike and thrusting its cock in my face. Percussion moves closer to the wall, towards the mountains, and the spotlight focuses on the curved silver sides of the tanker, gleaming in the light. It’s close, only a couple “blocks” away, I pedal furiously to reach it. The incessant spray of water lands on the parched earth, I see a handful of people, some naked, some in loincloths, some only in sandals gently jogging behind a tanker full of water. Like hare krishnas dancing after their leader, knees up, smiles drawn, trailing after the cool stream. I am off my turquoise bike, simultaneously running towards it and disrobing. In the raw state, below the sun, in the wind, in plain view of whoever cares to gaze upon my white flesh, I am here, breasts jiggling, ass shaking, thighs bouncing, I run to the source. It’s a large tanker, shaped like massive oil trucks that cruise through cites and on long, wide freeways, only this one contains thousands of gallons of water, the truck rolls through the desert street at 1 mile an hour, shooting a hard stream of water from its back like a continuous orgasm of hydrogen and oxygen. With a smile that blooms from my deepest being, I let the water wash over me, taking with it streams of sweat and dust and leftover kisses that drip down my legs. And the liquid mixes with the dry floor of a dead lake and a soft gray clay forms. Mud clings to the bottom of my feet and rises towards my ankles. My feet get dirtier, but I become more beautiful. Alive in the elements. Spirit moves through me like a river as my body mixes with the people of stone and the ones of air and the guardians of water. The sun beats down on me like a lover of the future. The wind grasps my nipples with the ferocity of a future mouth. And I am here. Naked. The water truck passes and my bike awaits, I ride, past miles of tents, past swing sets and trampolines and rows of green latrines. There is a white tent in the distance and the beat holds steady in the wind as I race towards it.

She Got A Job

The woman stepped out of the parked compact car and, turning back towards it, she placed one hand on the roof, her eyes momentarily fixed on the black metal fence on the other side of the street. She was about five feet and six inches tall. She wore a deep red top with very short sleeves and a short white denim skirt, leaving her thick dark thighs exposed. Her hair was curly, full and bouncing, creating a half sphere of radiant black thin tendrils that flowed freely around her deep brown face. She wore small silver glasses and her naked arms were thick and full, the dark brown skin jiggling freely with every little movement of her body. She tapped on the roof of the car, in a show of impatience, and then she reached down with both hands to rearrange her skirt. In a swift motion, she grabbed the lower end of her red top and tucked it in, wiggling her big round ass as she pulled the red fabric under the tight waist of the skirt. It was a bright hot day and her red top was shining like fire under the glare of the sunlight. Cars passed by in constant succession, honking every once in a while. A teen girl laughed happily in the distance beyond the metal fence and two thin men passed by in a blur of color, riding their shiny bicycles with a stern look of serious purpose and calculated intent.
"The thing is…well, look, I understand…it’s very clear to me, you know, but still…", she said it in a very loud voice that was vibrant with shrillness and a sense of defiant presence, as if the big sound of her words clearly communicated what didn’t need to be stated in language: ‘I’m here, whether you like me or not and, one way or another, you will have to listen to me!’
An older couple with shiny white hair, walking slowly down the sidewalk, turned towards her for a moment, their thoughts interrupted by the loud sound of her voice. They quickly turned away and kept on walking, passing right behind her while she continued to wiggle her ass and pull up on the waist of her skirt. Her friend stepped out of the driver’s side and looked at her over the roof of the parked car. She was a bit smaller in height and a lot thinner. Her black hair was pressed tightly over her head, giving her face the look of a complex dark brown egg. Her eyes were deep and insistent, her mouth was wide towards the sides but was kept tightly shut when she was not speaking and her lips were thin and seemed pale when compared to the dark skin of her cheeks. She wore a white loose shirt with colorful African style adornments and a pair of blue jeans, pressed tightly around her curved firm legs.
"It doesn’t… it’s just not the way…." The first woman continued in the same loud voice.
"I don’t see what’s the problem…" the friend answered in a voice just as loud, but with a deeper timbre.
"Here’s the problem…" the first woman tapped on the roof of the car for emphasis and then reached down to adjust her skirt once again.
A family passed by behind them, a tall man carrying a little girl on his shoulders and two other girls, slightly older, running around his legs as if he was a moving play structure that followed them wherever they went. The man’s wife walked behind him, her head lowered, her eyes flying back and forth from one running little girl to the other, making sure she knew where each one was, making sure they didn’t run into any trouble. The man never turned to look at the women by the car, his eyes were fixed on the path ahead, trying to make sure he didn’t stumble over one of his running daughters. The older girls screamed with the pleasure of running freely. The little girl on top of her father’s shoulders laughed with the pleasure of being carried.
"What is the problem then? What is it really? It doesn’t make any sense to me," the friend said it as she was closing the car door. She then looked directly at the first woman, who was still arranging her clothes.
"Here’s the thing… she got a job…."
"So?"
"Well, I’m glad for her… I’m happy for her and everything… but it’s like…"
"What is the problem? Why can’t you just let it be?"
"I’m telling you… it’s like… so ok…she got a job but where’s my job? You know what I’m saying?"The shorter, thinner friend shook her head and started to walk around the car towards the sidewalk. A woman in dark blue athletic shorts and a sweaty white T-shirt ran across the street while two cars stopped to let her pass. She looked straight ahead and ran right past the two women.
"So what if she got a job… good for her, right?… what do you care?" the friend asked as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The first woman wiggled her large round ass once again, pulling up her skirt even higher, revealing more of her thick dark brown thighs.
"Don’t you get it… you know how she got it… you know the deal… it’s like good… you got a job… but where’s my fucking job? Huh? Where is it?"
The smaller woman stepped around the car as a tall bearded man walked behind them on the sidewalk. He was wearing a black button up shirt and black jeans. He had a camera in his hands and he stopped often, taking a new picture every few seconds.
"What do you care? You should just let it go already… so she got a job… so what? She does her thing… you do your thing…it’s like…"
The first woman wiggled her ass once more and stepped back and away from the car. Then she closed the door harshly, and turned towards her friend with eyes of barely repressed anger.
"No! It’s not that simple… look, she got a job… right? … so good for her… but where’s my job? Huh? Where’s my job?"
The friend shook her head. A young girl in a beige top and a loose white skirt walked by listening to loud music through thin headphones. She was shaking her head back and forth as she walked and the shifting rhythmic movements of her body responding to the music made the white skirt dance around her thin pink thighs. The friend stepped towards the car and made sure that the doors were locked. Then she turned back towards the woman who was still staring at her with big round angry eyes.
"It’s over. That’s all there is to it. It’s her life. She got a job. That’s good for her. Be happy for her. And let it go."
The woman in the red top turned away from the car and from her friend, she reached down to the waist of her white skirt and arranged it once again, pulling it up slightly over the edge of her red top and then wiggling it into place. As she did it, she shook her head, letting the world know that the matter wasn’t settled.
"It’s not over. Not at all. Look, she got a job… right… she went and got a job…"
Together, they walked towards the main plaza, while a thin man passed by in a shiny bicycle. In the distance, a young girl laughed.