Alex lit a cigarette…but Cabell was a master to have written Jurgen…and an artist…and a poet…Alex blew a cloud of smoke…a few lines of one of Langston’s poems came to describe Jurgen…..
Somewhat like Ariel.
Somewhat like Puck.
Somewhat like a gutter boy.
Who loves to play in muck..
Somewhat like Bacchus.
Somewhat like Pan.
And a way with women .
Like a sailor man……
Langston must have known Jurgen…suppose Jurgen had met Tonio Kroeger…what a vagrant thought…Kroeger…Kroeger… Kroeger…why here was Rene…Alex had almost gone to sleep…Alex blew a cone of smoke as he took Rene’s hand…it was nice to have friends like Rene…so comfortable…Rene was speaking…Borgia joined them…and de Diego Padro…their talk veered to…James Branch Cabell…beautiful…marvelous…Rene had an enchanting accent…said sank for thank and souse for south…but they couldn’t know Cabell’s greatness…Alex searched the smoke for expression…he…he…well he has created a phantasy mire…that’s it…from clear rich imagery…life and silver sands…that’s nice…and silver sands…imagine lilies growing in such a mire…when they close at night their gilded underside would protect…but that’s not it at all…his thoughts just carried and mingled like…like odors…suggested but never definite…Rene was leaving…they all were leaving…Alex sauntered slowly back…the houses all looked sleepy…funny…made him feel like writing poetry…and about death too…an elevated crashed by overhead scattering all his thoughts with its noise…making them spread…in circles…then larger circles…just like a splash in a calm pool…what had he been thinking…of…a poem about death…but he no longer felt that urge…just walk and think and wonder…think and remember and smoke…blow smoke that mixed with his thoughts and the night…he would like to live in a large white palace…to wear a long black cape…very full and lined with vermilion… to have many cushions and to lie there among them…talking to his friends…lie there in a yellow silk shirt and black velvet trousers…like music-review artists talking and pouring strange liquors from curiously beautiful bottles…bottles with long slender necks…he climbed the noisy stair of the odorous tenement…smelled of fish…of stale fried fish and dirty milk bottles…he rather liked it…he liked the acrid smell of horse manure too…strong…thoughts…yes to lie back among strangely fashioned cushions and sip eastern wines and talk…Alex threw himself on the bed…removed his shoes…stretched and relaxed…yes and have music waft softly into the darkened and incensed room…he blew a cloud of smoke…oh the joy of being an artist and of blowing blue smoke thru an ivory holder inlaid with red jade and green… the street was so long and narrow…so long and narrow…and blue… in the distance it reached the stars…and if he walked long enough…far enough…he could reach the stars too…the narrow blue was so empty… quiet…Alex walked music…it was nice to walk in the blue after a party… Zora had shone again…her stories…she always shone…and Monty was glad…every one was glad when Zora shone…he was glad he had gone to Monty’s party…Monty had a nice place in the village…nice lights… and friends and wine…mother would be scandalized that he could think of going to a party…without a copper to his name…but then mother had never been to Monty’s…and mother had never seen the street seem long and narrow and blue…Alex walked music…the click of his heels kept time with a tune in his mind…he glanced into a lighted cafe window…inside were people sipping coffee…men…why did they sit there in the loud light…didn’t they know that outside the street…the narrow blue street met the stars…that if they walked long enough…far enough…Alex walked and the click of his heels sounded…and had an echo…sound being tossed back and forth…back and forth… some one was approaching…and their echoes mingled…and gave the sound of castanets…Alex liked the sound of the approaching man’s footsteps…he walked music also…he knew the beauty of the narrow blue…Alex knew that by the way their echoes mingled…he wished he would speak…but strangers don’t speak at four o’clock in the morning… at least if they did he couldn’t imagine what would be said… maybe…pardon me but are you walking toward the stars…yes, sir, and if you walk long enough…then may I walk with you I want to reach the stars too…perdone me senor tiene vd. fosforo…Alex was glad he had been addressed in Spanish…to have been asked for a match in English… or to have been addressed in English at all…would have been blasphemy just then…Alex handed him a match…he glanced at his companion apprehensively in the match glow…he was afraid that his appearance would shatter the blue thoughts…and stars…ah…his face was a perfect compliment to his voice…and the echo of their steps mingled…they walked in silence…the castanets of their heels clicking accompaniment… the stranger inhaled deeply and with a nod of content and a smile…blew a cloud of smoke…Alex felt like singing…the stranger knew the magic of blue smoke also…they continued in silence…the castanets of their heels clicking rhythmically…Alex turned in his doorway…up the stairs and the stranger waited for him to light the room…no need for words…they had always known each other………as they undressed by the blue dawn…Alex knew he had never seen a more perfect being…his body was all symmetry and music…and Alex called him Beauty…long they lay…blowing smoke and exchanging thoughts… and Alex swallowed with difficulty…he felt a glow of tremor…and they talked and…slept…
Alex wondered more and more why he liked Adrian so…he liked many people…Wallie…Zora…Clement…Gloria…Langston…John… Gwenny…oh many people…and they were friends…but Beauty…it was different…once Alex had admired Beauty’s strength…and Beauty’s eyes had grown soft and he had said…I like you more than any one Dulce…Adrian always called him Dulce…and Alex had become confused… was it that he was so susceptible to beauty that Alex liked Adrian so much…but no…he knew other people who were beautiful…Fania and Gloria…Monty and Bunny…but he was never confused before them…while Beauty…Beauty could make him believe in Buddha…or imps…and no one else could do that…that is no one but Melva…but then he was in love with Melva…and that explained that…he would like Beauty to know Melva…they were both so perfect…such compliments… yes he would like Beauty to know Melva because he loved them both…there…he had thought it…actually dared to think it…but Beauty must never know…Beauty couldn’t understand…indeed Alex couldn’t understand…and it pained him…almost physically…and tired his mind…Beauty…Beauty was in the air…the smoke…Beauty…Melva… Beauty…Melva…Alex slept…and dreamed…….. he was in a field…a field of blue smoke and black poppies and red calla lilies…he was searching…on his hands and knees…searching… among black poppies and red calla lilies…he was searching and pushed aside poppy stems…and saw two strong white legs…dancer’s legs…the contours pleased him…his eyes wandered…on past the muscular hocks to the firm white thighs…the rounded buttocks…then the lithe narrow waist…strong torso and broad deep chest…the heavy shoulders…the graceful muscled neck…squared chin and quizzical lips…grecian nose with its temperamental nostrils…the brown eyes looking at him…like… Monty looked at Zora…his hair curly and black and all tousled…and it was Beauty…and Beauty smiled and looked at him and smiled…said… I’ll wait Alex…and Alex became confused and continued his search…on his hands and knees…pushing aside poppy stems and lily stems…a poppy…a black poppy…a lily…a red lily…and when he looked back he could no longer see Beauty…Alex continued his search…thru poppies… lilies…poppies and red calla lilies…and suddenly he saw…two small feet olive-ivory…two well turned legs curving gracefully from slender ankles…and the contours soothed him…he followed them…past the narrow rounded hips to the tiny waist…the fragile firm breasts…the graceful slender throat…the soft rounded chin…slightly parting lips and straight little nose with its slightly flaring nostrils…the black eyes with lights in them…looking at him…the forehead and straight cut black hair and it was Melva…and she looked at him and
smiled and said…I’ll wait Alex…and Alex became confused and kissed her…became confused and continued his search…on his hands and knees…pushed aside a poppy stem…a black-poppy stem…pushed aside a lily stem… a red-lily stem…a poppy…a poppy…a lily…and suddenly he stood erect…exultant…and in his hand he held…an ivory holder… inlaid with red jade…and green………… and Alex awoke…Beauty’s hair tickled his nose…Beauty was smiling in his sleep…half his face stained flush color by the sun…the other half in shadow…blue shadow…his eye lashes casting cobwebby blue shadows on his cheek…his lips were so beautiful…quizzical…Alex wondered why he always thought of that passage from Wilde’s Salome… when he looked at Beauty’s lips…I would kiss your lips…he would like to kiss Beauty’s lips…Alex flushed warm…with shame…or was it shame…he reached across Beauty for a cigarette…Beauty’s cheek felt cool to his arm…his hair felt soft…Alex lay smoking…such a dream…red calla lilies…red calla lilies…and…what could it all mean…did dreams have meanings…Fania said…and black poppies…thousands…millions…
Black Like Us Page 11
