Tag Archives: brazil

Isabeta

I was on a military base
just south of the Brazilian border
and had just returned from
hanging out at a bar
inside of a grocery store.

My aunt had called me out
to the front yard
to meet a teacher that lived
across the neighbourhood.

Her name was Isabeta
and she was spoiled with hair.
There was so much of it that
you could get completely lost in it.

It greatly complimented her angelic visage
and immediately I wanted to
take her places
and show her things.
I wanted her to laugh in my arms
kiss me slowly
and tell me secrets.

I wanted her.
It was rather sudden and powerful.

I must have stood there
repeating her name
over and over
like an invalid
because my aunt shoved me away
and told me to go sit against the house.
Mortified, I obeyed.

I was young and impressionable
and she was a prominent force to be dealt with.

All too quickly,
Isabeta smiled, waved
and left.

I waved back
and welcomed the sorrow
of her departure.

I continued to sit there and stare
at the spot that I last seen her
even long after she was gone
leaning against the wall in the shade
absently throwing grass between thoughts.

It was cloudless.
It was Hell hot in the sun.
Dirt from the roads
pulled up by passing cars
lingered in the air to
drift across everything
like low-bearing clouds.

My aunt threw more dresses
over the clothes line
and shook her head at me
here and there.
Que cosa!
What a thing!

Finally, she said:
“She wants to meet with you.
Tonight.
You need to go downtown at ten.
Dress nice.”

I sprang from the wall
like a frog,
“Are you kidding me?”

She looked like she was not kidding me.

“Where? When? How? Isabeta! Isabeta!”
I was actually buoyantly bouncing
around the lawn
and didn’t even realize it.

My aunt looked at me
like I was an ill-conceived child
grabbed her empty basket
and briskly walked back
into the house.

“Supper’s at seven.” She said.

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