I knew exactly the curve of your lower lip, the precise angle at which the upper one met it, if that isn’t understanding candies I don’t know what is,
you went to the store whenever you wanted to spoil yourself, and therefore every day, you liked those cola bottle candies, before you’d even paid for them you already had two or three in your mouth, it wasn’t elegant but it was you,
elegance is the moment when you happen, that’s all,
and I felt an unacceptable covetousness and slowly I did feel that the inside of your mouth is the best thing in the world but maybe the inside of your clothes is the best best thing in the world,
I’m sorry about the repetitive nature of the phrases I use but writing a state that surpasses happiness is difficult because of seeming like nobody has never felt it before me,
as I was telling you I wanted more than the inside of your mouth, I wanted the inside of your clothes and I had to take some steps towards that,
I could even have asked you out, for a drink, talked to you about myself and about loving you already, but I preferred to change job and in less than a week I was already at the health club in the centre of town ready to wait for you,
I don’t believe anyone has ever got through the massage course as quickly as I did it, they were two intense weeks but I made it to the end, I took the tests in a single day, I got home and didn’t know where to put my arms,
or maybe I really did, I just had to put them on you and I would be ready for another three or four more of the same courses in a row,
more than anything you liked to have happiness across your back, you’d been faithful to Marisa for more than five years, every week there you were for her to free you from the weight of the days,
a successful executive like you finds it so hard to impose your authority, don’t you?,
I’m really not sure how I managed to persuade her to take the day off on the day you were coming, I probably even had to go out with her just to be able to touch you, but when at last the skin of your lower back was in my hands I felt ready to die right there,
I don’t know if I really did die, honestly, maybe it’s from heaven or hell that I’m talking to you now,
at last I had the inside of your clothes, your feet, all of your outside, your face, your lips, the inside of your lips, I couldn’t ask life for any more and yet I couldn’t stop asking, I’m human and I wanted more,
that was when I decided to ask you out, for a drink, talked to you about myself and about loving you already, I could even change stores
but don’t think for a moment I was going to work in a sex shop.
Death is behind your kiss,
and I’m not interested in anything that can’t kill me.
I don’t want paths without stones, people without problems, let alone glory without tears. I don’t want the tedium of just keeping on going, the obligation to bear up, to maintain a routine just for the sake of it. I don’t want the on we go, the that’s life, the it’s got to be, nothing that doesn’t make me moan. I don’t want a dish that’s always healthy, the pristine salad, the chaste bed, the virgin sex. I don’t want sun all day long, straight lines without a single curve, I don’t want smooth black or immaculate white, I don’t want a perfect poem or undamaged spelling. I don’t want to learn only from a teacher, the little pat on the back, the come on it’ll pass soon enough, the micro-satisfactions, the tiny euphorias. I don’t want lips without a tongue, a tongue without pleasure, running away from whatever provokes fear, even growing accustomed to whatever causes me pain. I want what doesn’t fit into the usual, what isn’t understood in manuals, what doesn’t happen in screenplays. I want the exquisite wrinkle, the untended hand, the risky road, the rain, the wind, the ingrown nail, the animal in the moment. I even want to try what no one else has done before, to look at the unforgivable, spend the possibilities like a madman. Above all I want you to frighten me, the secret abyss, the inside of your legs, how the sweat runs down the middle of your chest, and the impossible way you express yourself when you come.
They told me your kiss killed and I paid no notice,
is there any way to get out of you alive?
Three years have gone by and I’m fed up with you,
with the way you exempt yourself from being romantic, with how you give up on an I love you when you go to bed, even the empty contents of our conversations when we sit down at the table and share the silence,
when love is born it is for everyone and you should know that.
Three years have gone by and I’m fed up with me,
with not being able to do what I want without your being there, with not being able to say no when you ask me to forgive you, with still believing that one day you’ll go back to being the man who won me once, still hoping that one of these mornings you’ll wake me up with a kiss and an embrace and tell me that life exists because I exist,
when love is born it is for everyone and you should know that.
Three years have gone by and I’m fed up of trying,
of working like a madwoman, of arriving home and having to cook, and look after the kids, and do the laundry, the washing-up, and going to bed without you there, your head somewhere else,
where have we ended up?, where have we allowed ourselves to end up?,
it’s no use to me, this more or less, it never has been, do you hear me?, this more or less is no use to me, it never has been,
when love is born it is for everyone and you should know that.
Three years have gone by and I’m fed up of running away,
it’s time to do, to act, which is why I left early, took the kids and here I am, my mother understands me and receives me calmly, my father understands me and receives me calmly, there’s an unconditional love between us, we’ll be happy here, the kids will miss you but there will always be weekends, I know you’re a good father, I know you’ll understand, you’ll cry but not as much as me, but you’ll understand that it had to be, there are moments when it has to be,
when love is born it is for everyone and you should know that.
Three years have gone by and I’m fed up of not loving you,
what are they, these days when you aren’t here?, what is this thing I have in the middle of my chest when I understand the absolute uselessness of my arms if they can’t embrace you?,
and I try other people, I swear I try, I pretend that I’ll bear it, that it’s all no more than a ludicrous dependency that will pass, I busy myself with hiding the tears when I go out at night,
what’s the point of music if not to define you?,
and I imagine where you are and who you’re with, yesterday you called me because of the kids and the tears fell, I don’t know if you noticed and actually I don’t give a damn whether you noticed or not, I just hope you come to fetch them early and that you apologise one more time, this time I’ll accept your apology and say yes, let’s try one more time, let’s try every other time,
what the hell is the point of pride if I can’t hold on tight to you?,
I’m a young woman and I miss our routine, our empty spaces and our silences,
when love is born it is for everyone and you should know that.
I’ve not yet learned how to describe the noise of the wind, for example, I’ve heard it as though God were within it, and within me, I’ve heard it as the voice of pain teaching me the seriousness of life, it’s shown me that even happiness can be heard, that there are as many ways of being alive as there are ways of hearing the wind, of looking at the wind, perhaps,
living is unbearable and, fuck, it’s so good.
I’ve not yet discovered how many tears can fit on a face, I’d bet on it being three thousand, a couple more at most, there are many reasons to cry and they aren’t all good ones, fortunately, what would have become of me if I wasn’t acquainted with the moment of crying, the way it dilates existence, the feeling of encountering the beginning of myself, the millimetre where the emotions begin?, I hope
for at least another million tears before my life ends, and that’s an optimistic hope, of course,
living is unbearable and, fuck, it’s so good.
I’ve not yet tried nam tok moo, a combination of grilled pork with mint, lemon juice, chilli, spring onion, fish sauce and roasted rice, I’ve not yet tried shepherd’s pie, the pieces of lamb covered in mashed potato, the things we learn about from Google, or Massaman curry, touches of pepper and sweetness, with coconut milk and a lot of curry powder, let alone Kālua pork, goi cuon, suckling pig, fettuccine Alfredo, so many things, so many things, to die is for your mouth to abandon so many pleasures to come, I would have liked to taste the creativity of all mankind, but I’ll have only some five or six thousand chances left, I’ve got to make the most of them, that’s for sure,
living is unbearable and, fuck, it’s so good.
I’ve not yet driven at three hundred miles an hour, I’m not even sure I want to, I’ll decide sometime, I’ve not yet tried all the positions in the Kama Sutra, and I’m getting too old for some of them, fortunately I know doctors and they can help me out if something goes wrong, I’ve not yet told my father a million times that I adore him, but I’m getting close and to tell the truth a million is too little for something as infinite as that, I’ve not yet hugged my mother and kissed her forehead till my lips dried out and my arms tired out, it could happen right now, when I finish this piece of writing, I’ve not yet written my masterpiece and I’ve only got seven hundred thousand million phrases, give or take a little, to try it, and a few more, probably, I’m sure I’ll die with my pen in my hand, or a computer on my lap, my last line will be something like ‘Please excuse some small things, but do read it, and above all love it’, I’ve not yet smeared myself in chocolate, I’ve not yet rolled in the sand after coming out of the sea enough times, I’ve not yet been to the moon, or to Mars, or even to China, and who knows where the most aliens are, right?, I’ve not yet played football in the Alvalade stadium, nor at the Don Afonso Henriques, nor Luz, nor Dragão, I’ve not been up onstage at the Coliseu, I tell a lie, I did go up once, but it was when I was doing a report and that doesn’t count, I’ve never sold three hundred or four hundred or five hundred thousand copies, I’ve not yet saved enough lives, I’ve not yet annoyed my niece nearly as much as I’d like, I’ve not yet invented words that give me satisfaction, I’ve not even thrown cakes in the face of my best friend, I’ve not yet seen my students win the Nobel, I’ve never yet fancied dancing on top of a bar, really dancing, I’ve not shut those bastards up one more time who tell me I’m not able to do what I’ve just done, who even yesterday were telling me I wasn’t going to make it to today, I’ve not yet shown my children that their father only can because he does, because he cries, he takes risks, he exposes himself, because he doesn’t want just to stand still nor could he bear it, I’ve not yet squeezed my cats till I can feel them in the centre of my bones, not yet, not yet, please not yet, I’m not yet ready to die, I never will be, just another minute, so those after all will be my last words, ‘Not yet’, with an exclamation mark, ‘Not yet!’, I hate exclamation marks and when I use my first it’ll be my last, ‘Not yet!’, and it’s so little, it should be more, more desperate, more urgent, more absolute, ‘NOT YET!’, it’s not enough but it’s what there is, no language is ready for death, there aren’t the resources for it, the worst thing isn’t the dead languages, it’s languages in death, incompetent, incapable, like me, not yet, please, but it has to be, I acknowledge that, but I will never accept, never, I will never accept, when I do they will be indebted to me, I’ll be a believer for ever, let that be written down, and now it is, that justice is demanding payment and it is pitiless,
living is unbearable and, fuck, it’s so good.
I most importantly don’t yet know the colour of your panties today, and that’s the thing that I struggle with the most, I confess,
now I know, amazing,
and now I don’t know again
(or, oh, I’ve forgotten),
may the floor enjoy them, lucky thing,
living is unbearable and – oh, fuck it – it is so good.
The first time I saw you was on the street with the shoe shop, you were impeccable but you dropped a poem,
nobody’s perfect, not even you, I would have liked to grab it right there and return it to you, but I didn’t have the courage and I ended up keeping it for myself, there are poems that need to be kept from the world, everyone knows that or if they don’t know it they should,
even if poetry dies there will still be poems,
lunatics laugh at things that make other people cry, even call them crazy,
which is just to say that I’m crazy about you, and that I’ve followed you ever since that day, I had an appointment at the dentist but I don’t think it’s important to waste my time on trivialities if there’s a poem to return and I don’t know how to do it,
between dental health and poetry there’s an entire shipwreck, verses are useless and only a fool doesn’t know that they’re the most important thing in the world,
after you, of course,
you went to the supermarket, you bought two cartons of milk, a bag of sugar and half a dozen oranges, then you went into an office building,
the way you walk proves to me beyond all doubt that God doesn’t teach us to live but He might well teach us to walk,
I waited for you at the door, four or five hours, you came out with a man I was afraid was your husband but then I saw he wasn’t, he went one way and you the other, and I went to you, I confess, with no hesitation but a kind of elation,
excuse the rhyme, it was unintentional,
lunatics make little planes out of the bits of green paper that other people see as a reason to kill if necessary, even if not necessary, and they call them crazy,
which is just to say that I’m crazy about you, and that all those days I loved you without your knowing, before too long I knew your routines exactly, where you went, what you did, who you went with, you were a free woman and I might have been a hero if I’d said something to you,
forgive me for your being too amazing for me to dare to touch you, yes?,
one day you didn’t arrive at the stop at seven-thirty in the morning, the bus came and you weren’t there, you were always there on Mondays, at that time, you were normally in your blue sweater, the brown leather jacket, the tight jeans,
you make jeans into a gala evening dress and at the same time a sensual miniskirt, let me tell you that right now,
and I could tell you much more, praise you as best I can, tell you my foolish words, but the truth is I’m too busy trying to learn about you,
where are you, as I need to love urgently?,
I looked for you everywhere but nothing, in the office nobody knows anything,
she left yesterday and didn’t come back, we’ve already called her and no answer, nobody’s heard from her and there are a lot of reports to write, it’s just so irresponsible, isn’t it?,
your neighbours didn’t see you go out,
last time I saw her was last night and she seemed strange, I must admit,
but you’re not home as I’ve already looked through the window, I walked along the sill and nearly fell,
you’re totally worth a fall from the second floor, even I who am an electrician and don’t understand the first thing about economics know that,
I’ve been to the hospitals already and no sign of you there, just as well, let me take a deep breath now,
where are you, as I need a reason to live?,
after all you’d gone off to some island in the middle of the Pacific and hadn’t even said, isn’t it useful having friends in the travel agents’ and you being the most unforgettable woman in the world?,
and I don’t know if you’re coming back, actually, perhaps it’s time to give up, I don’t have you here to look at and I don’t know if it’s possible to continue to be in love with someone who doesn’t know me, what do you reckon?,<
br />
lunatics look at impossibility and see all the reasons to keep going while other people see all the reasons to give up, and they call them crazy,
which is just to say that I’m crazy about you, and that my plane arrives there about ten,
will you be waiting for me in your Levi’s jeans?,
and she waited,
for a lunatic, a lunatic and a half, or maybe two,
and they lived crazy for ever, and probably happy, too,
you may now kiss the bride, if you wish,
he did, he kissed her, he embraced her,
and gave her the poem at last.
COMPLAINT FORM
Use a ballpoint pen and write in capital letters.
IDENTIFICATION OF THE PRODUCT SUPPLIER/SERVICE PROVIDER
AGAINST WHOM THE COMPLAINT IS FILED:
(details obscured for legal reasons)
IDENTIFICATION OF THE COMPLAINANT:
(details obscured for legal reasons)
CAUSE OF COMPLAINT:
WITH THE SIMPLE AIM OF PURCHASING A SIM CARD, THE COMPLAINANT MADE FOR THIS STORE, TOOK A TICKET AND AWAITED HIS TURN. MORE THAN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, HIGHLY IRRITATED AT THE INEXPLICABLE WAIT, HE WAS FINALLY CALLED. HE WOULD HAVE BEHAVED QUITE AGGRESSIVELY TOWARDS THE EMPLOYEE WHO SERVED HIM WERE IT NOT FOR HIS NOTICING THAT SHE WAS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD, WHICH, THOUGH IT MAY NOT SEEM SO, CAN STOP A LOT OF GOOD PEOPLE FROM REVOLTING AGAINST ANYTHING, ESPECIALLY WHEN IN LOVE, IMMEDIATELY, WITH THE WOMAN AGAINST WHOM THEY NEED TO PROTEST – AND WHO, AS MAY HAVE BEEN REPORTED ABOVE, IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD. THE COMPLAINANT THEREFORE INTENDS THAT WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY THIS STORE PROCEED ACCORDING TO THE ESTABLISHED PROCEDURES, GIVEN THAT, AS WE ALL KNOW (OR AT LEAST THE COMPLAINANT KNOWS CLEARLY) SUCH A GREAT BEAUTY IS INTOLERABLE AND ILLEGAL – AND SHOULD BE CONFINED TO SPACES WHERE SHE CANNOT INEXPLICABLY FASCINATE ALL THOSE WHO SURROUND HER. IT IS THEREFORE DEMANDED, WITHOUT FURTHER DELAY, THAT THE EMPLOYEE IN QUESTION, WHO IDENTIFIED HERSELF MERELY AS ‘BÁRBARA TEIXEIRA’ (THEREBY OMITTING TO MENTION – INEXPLICABLY AND WITH EVIDENT MISCONDUCT – THAT HER FULL NAME IS ‘THE WOMAN OF MY LIFE’), SHOULD BE KEPT SOMEWHERE MORE RESERVED AND NEVER IN A PUBLIC-FACING ROLE. IN ADDITION, IT IS A PRESSING CONCERN THAT THE SAME EMPLOYEE SHOULD – FOR THE VIOLENT WAY IN WHICH THE TOUCH OF HER HAND, INADVERTENTLY, LEFT MINE IN AN UNRECOVERABLE STATE OF HAPPINESS FOR EVER – BE CONDEMNED TO SUPPLY THE COMPLAINANT WITH A BROAD SMILE EACH TIME HE (ME) COMES INTO THE STORE – AND, CONSIDER YOURSELVES HENCEFORTH NOTIFIED, MY CELL PHONE IS PRETTY OLD AND HAS BEEN HAVING MORE AND MORE PROBLEMS – AS WELL AS TO ENSURE THAT IT WILL ALWAYS BE SHE WHO ATTENDS TO THE COMPLAINANT, AND SUPPLY HIM WITH HER TELEPHONE NUMBER SO THAT A DINNER, A LUNCH, OR A SIMPLE COFFEE À DEUX SHOULD, IN THE INTERESTS OF SOME RESTORATION OF JUSTICE, TAKE PLACE AS RAPIDLY AS POSSIBLE. WE AWAIT THEREFORE, FOR ALL THE REASONS EXHAUSTIVELY LAID OUT (AND EVEN MORE EXHAUSTIVELY FELT), THE APPROPRIATE ACTION OF THE COMPETENT AUTHORITY, CONSCIOUS OF THE GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION HEREIN RECOUNTED, AND WITH THE CERTAINTY THAT I ALREADY LOVE HER UNDER PROTEST, MAY GOD AND THE LAW BE MY AID.
The Day I Found You Page 4