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Con
la misma sangre
She was attractive rather than beautiful, an olive complexion
and jet-black hair in keeping with her Latin origins. The
merest kiss of polio had visited upon the beginning of a life
otherwise blessed.
We meet in my recurring nightmare, a personal and perverse
interpretation of La Guernica, where I am the unfortunate
centre of attention in the bullring, a picador has just probed
his lance between the shoulders of my unwitting and unwilling
adversary and the blood is running.
The fight it is not a vocation, for it was not my choice of
work, but rather, under peer pressure, I was invited to enter
the ranks of brutality and bullying, under the thin veil of
glamour and bravery.
The sun is in it’s zenith, seemingly contributing to
expectation, and she is there again, as always, up in the
stands, waving her white handkerchief, signifying dis-satisfaction
at the below par performance of her torero, for I belong to
her.
But, am I a coward, or simply tired of this cruel spectacle? My
pink cape, a tool of the trade to attract the wrath of an
injury-weakened bull, is unfurled as I begin the last tango in
this dance of death. The animal advances as anticipated, in a
choreographed shamble, breathing heavily, snorting confusion….
I haughtily simper forward, only to slip on the bloody sand. As
I go down, the animal seizes the surprise opportunity and I am
gored just above the spleen…………
It is at that point sleep, hand in hand with nightmare, trip
over conscious horizon, leaving me wreathed in perspiration,
and an ache in my gut. There is no girl, although the smear and
smell of blood is in the air, and a white handkerchief lies at
the foot of an untidy bed.
The battle has been lost, and will be lost again during
tonight’s return, when she will again be in the stands,
handkerchief in hand.
Surf Bum
Donald Innes is a writer and photographer,
see more of his pictures on
http://donaldinnesross-aplaceforinnes.blogspot.com
If you are interested in buying any of his pictures just
call him on 662 529580
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