Rosamond Press

“How stupid can you be? Yes, or no! These are your choices!” she seemed to say as she waited on pins and needles for my answer. A full second went by.

“Hey! Wait a minute! You’re not thinking of saying “no” to me, the most beautiful women you have ever seen, the most ravishing goddess – anyone has beheld in their lifetime! This is it! Your one great chance to get it right! Speak!”

I realized she was impressed by my pause. I am giving my great secret away. You young men out there, always say “one thousand one” before you respond. Perfectly beautiful women are aware on their one flaw, and, there is a chance you spotted it. Most women’s questions are aimed at getting you to say they are beautiful, especially if they are beautiful!

“Hmm! No. I think I will take a rain check. Now, if you’ll excuse me, here comes my beautiful sister who I am training to be a famous woman artist. She will make millions rendering images of women like you. She has it much easier than me. I have to move mountains in order to – fuck you!”

There are some things one will never forget. The Eyes of Rena is at the top of the list. They pierced my soul in that very long second. These still are the trillion dollars eyes that have fueled the cosmetic industry, and blue-jean commercials. I love to watch those dramatic Kalvin Kline ads that are a continuance of ten thousand commercials Rena and I shot – with my Third Eye! We stopped at Goodwill to purchase used camping equipment.

“I think I will buy this little Kodak Instamatic camera so I can take photographs of you, in the paradise I am taking you to. We’ll get some film at Safeway!”

“No film! No photos for you! Next!”

Actually, I am being unfair. I was a purist – as well as an artist! Stopping to photograph Rena would take me out of the moment, and degrade my relationship with her. I would not be – her equal!  I would be her – Lacky Observer, her funky-ass side-kick!

“Are you nuts?”

After I lay my lengthy answer on Rena, after we took three steps, she came to a ubrupt stop. She almost put her hand on my shoulder in order to turn me, in order to bring my face fully facing her.

“What do you mean by that?” She demanded, her body language letting me know she would not take another step with some Whacko-Bird.

“Oh look! Here are five pages left in this pad of art paper – for ten cents! Can I buy this so I can do drawings of you?”

Getting no answer from Rena, was usually a “yes”.

Now, I am going to go out on a limb telling you this. I studied the Indian Religion, and I was a follower of Meher Baba at the time. I knew I was on a date with Maya, and together we had much spiritual work to do in halting the Uglification of America, by the mean-spirited ones. Therefor, we left our energy, our essence behind, for others to enjoy – for years to come. Beauty of a product of our Humanity. Nothing is beautiful until it is blessed by ‘The Avatar’………God in human form! The churches got hip to this, and thus employed a bevy of artists and architects. When you see this family sitting on the hill, in a cathedral setting, they are with her, with us. I composed this fifteen years ago.

The pond is not what it used to be. The draught has taken its toll. This was a reservoir, but, the banks have caved in. It is not as deep and clear as it was when the most beautiful woman in the world swam in it – naked! She was wise to keep me on the bank, because, my sacred memories of her swims at dusk, are holy!

This is where we pitched our tent, to the right of the picnic table. The trees have grown in our absence. The little girl waves to our souls!

Maserati Sunset

Rena and I sat on our hillside watching the western sky turn into a rainbow, and then beheld the first stars appear in the thalo blue richness of the sky. This was to be our last night on our mountain before we descend to the land of mortals below.

I sat above her, and thus she used my legs and knees like a thrown, a leather bucket seat, her beautiful arms resting on me as I caressed her shoulders. A warm wind came up through the pines and oaks, and the strong smell of dry golden
grass was like a perfume that still lingers. This aroma is my solace, at knowing what she had in store, for herself, just herself.

This beautiful Midwest girl was born in the body of Ferrari, a Mazerati, in a little town in Nebraska, and for seventeen years she lived like a old crone in the home of her dear Grandmother. My God, she was in a walker at seven!

“Oh, Rena, do be careful! Watch out for those garden pebbles, They can trip you up! Now, let’s go watch the backward sprinkler till it gets dark.”

Before I came into her life, her plan was to take that beautiful Mazaerati body to college – and conquer Lincoln – for starters!

Look out Lincoln, here come Rena Ferrari Maserati, Italian film goddess! Look for her to burn some rubber down your street on her way to the campus where there are a hundred good looking men in great bodies, they out of their mother’s
home, too, and there is no one to stop them, all that healthy stuff, the years they played on the swings and jungle gyms, coming down to this – College Mating Time!

If I was born in her body, there would be no way you could talk me into parking my Masaerati in that old barn in back of the Monastery, then go into the field and pick potatoes and radishes for the communal stew. No way! I mean, my God,
your’re a godly sex machine, the sexist car alive, and………besides, she had already parked herself in a little tent atop a mount overlooking the town of Monte Rio – for forty five fucking days with a hippie who was not going anywhere in life, because wanting to be someone, is not cool.

O.K. This is/was true! But Rena didn’t have to be anybody either, because she was so fucking beautiful. It just – grew on her!

Rena wanted to have a few more lovers, that will fine tune her cylinders, her moves, her love making technique, before she takes it out on the autobahn – and really opens up!
I was already in her dust, and, was trying to be fair, make it easier on both of us, by telling her;

“I would do the same thing, if I were you!”

“You would! “Oh thank you! Thank you for releasing me, and approving of everything I want to do!”

I love Rena like my own daughter. She never knew her father.

Of course I made this conversation up, because, when I pointed out the planet Pluto to her, I slapped an invisible ball and chain on her ankle while she was distracted.

“Where’s Pluto?”

“See that tiny little star at the very tip of that pine tree!