Tribal
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My mind played in vignettes with no music or sounds of sweet words, just those haunting large brown eyes above freckled cheeks so soft and smooth. It seemed an assault to me to abrade her skin with my beard and calloused hands.
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He always tried to lead our little threesome in the jungle and Ann allowed him every indulgence except sex, which Pete could not understand. She nurtured her errant knight with food, kindness, and gentle but bloody effective persuasion.
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The day I looked up from my labor, my fashionable loin cloth no longer new or foreign to me, I arrived at a divergence in my life’s journey.
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After a little more than a week with the tribe, Pete and I began to relax around each other. It seemed his attitude was more on how to swallow his pride and entertain a barbarian. I understood and made no demands on him.
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I lay in the cool night on a woven straw mat, unable to sleep. Insomnia was not unusual in such circumstances. The beer and strange foods that required mental concentration to fool the palate made my head and my stomach unsettled.
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Soon the welcoming committee showed up with their stoic scowls and parang to decide if I was profitable or a scallywag to be run off or worse, boiled into pig feed.
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My strange desire to live alone in the great grandfather forest overtook me again. I felt genuinely free owing nothing but my life to myself. Equally strange was my desire to share this life with someone who would love it as much as I. I knew that was not possible, but the ache never left…
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It is time to come clean as my time is very short on this angry blue planet. I wanted to withdraw quietly like a hand removed from a tidal pool or a footstep in a pine straw-littered forest.
Hyperion Sky 