She lays naked and warm
Next to her purse with the things inside left to confuse the mice that come at night to visit
A swahili phrase book next to a card with
Hot rolls Dumb ass on it
Thinking, go ahead why don’t you take that one back to your nest and chew on that for awhile
They speak in high pitched tones
Like aliens who read from their prayer scrolls
Trying to gauge the freshness of the bacon
He bought from gypsies years ago as he sat across the fire in the desert
Fate-- he lay many nights in the cold plugged into the jacket that takes energy and makes heat in your jacket as the engine runs
After he lays many nights next to his motorcycle in the dirt at night wrapped in his Masaai robes he bought on Ebay.
He searches for the turkey bone and aluminum foil to make translators to listen to advice from the ants that crawl beneath his head so he can understand
How to get along with others as well as they do
He wonders how they manage to do their jobs for the benefit of the others
they live with while his thoughts always drift towards solo journeys
She looks over his shoulder now scribbling notes she can give to the people who buy her breakfast.
He leaves cryptic notes for help on the cafeteria tray that rides down the conveyor hoping that the kitchen staff wlll read it when they clean the dishes
He scratches the fish scales and cotton that line the roof of his mouth in the morning
Trying to taste what remains of the night air
that still lingers somewhere amongst the leaves that lay cold beneath the winter trees on the hard frozen ground
His dog barks outside tied to a tree after she does her business
She comes in happy and panting waiting for her breakfast near her water dish
She lays then down upon her pillow
The Masaai men laugh at him when he tells the story as they sit across a fire in the night heat that keeps the lions away
Reminiscent of the time he learned from the gypsies that sold him his bacon
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