Caribbean Blues...

I am aboard the sailing vessel Mah Jong right now, about three miles off shore of Fijardo, Puerto Rico. It is beautiful here; I love sailing, snorkeling and everything else about the islands of the Caribbean. I was looking forward to this trip for months and sent my son down in early June to summer with his grandparents on the ocean while I went to summer school.

That is what ruined this trip for me. While tutoring writing I met this woman, Alisha (actually my boss if you want to get technical about it), and I have fallen hopelessly in Love...Yes, LOVE with a capitol L. I thought I was too old and jaded at thirty-seven to ever feel this way again; but, here I am. I am fascinated with her character as well as her body and I have been miserable here in the sun and the sea, here in my definition of Heaven on Earth, for the lack of her simple presence. Just the sight of her, to say nothing of her arms around me, or her body entwined with mine.

I am flaberghasted that this has happened in such a short time, I am happier than I think I have ever been, and I cannot stand to be so far away from my love. Fuck, I am lost in her eyes, enslaved by her smile, she has cast some wicked and delightful spell upon me and I am hers.

I know this sounds sappy, but I am slap-happy except for the fact that all I have of her until Friday evening is her voice on the phone. We talk for hours in the night, when the minutes are free - five hours last night alone, and I have been on the phone with her over an hour today as well, and had an IM chat, and I cannot wait until the witching hour of nine'o'clock comes once again and I can call her.

I snorkel in the clear bottle green water, gazing upon multitudinous, multicolored tropical fish and I see only her. I walk the beach in the summer sun and my only thought is what small treasure I might find to bring back as her gift, what bright and shining thing might please her. I am like some rough crow seeking glimmering things to bring back to the nest of his paramour, I am taken...

The best part of it all is that I have every evidence that she is as taken with me as I am with her. She tells me this with her eyes, her words, her touch...and she writes of it here if you can find her, though methinks she prefers to remain anonymous and I will, therefore, give you no clues as to her virtual location. It seems that I can write of little but her of late, and so, I will leave you with this thought from the afternoon...


Alisha Deliciosa,

my favorite dish
plated beautifully
pale flesh,
and red hair
basted with passion
and sweat like wine
framed on yellow sheets
and colored with candlelight
as I lower myself to her...

The rest is too Ahemmmm, personal, for this blog...Peace out to y'all...