The hills across the valley of the Ebro
were long and white. On this side
there was no shade and no trees and the
station was between two lines of rails
in the sun. Close against the side of the
station there was the warm shadow of
the building and a curtain, made of strings
of bamboo beads, hung across the open door
into the bar, to keep out flies. The American
and the girl with him sat at a table in the
shade, outside the building. It was very hot
and the express from Barcelona would come
in forty minutes. It stopped at this junction
for two minutes and went to Madrid.
'What should we drink?' the girl asked.
She had taken off her hat and put it on the table.
i am natasha. i am a bomb.
bold, bare, frozen
Email.
NatashaAdorlee@Gmail.com
because i'd rather fill this space with nonsense.
natashaadorlee.com,
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Self_(psychology),
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Family,
Tuesday, July 14, 2009, 6:50 PM
something i wrote a couple of days ago.
____________________________
it is temporary 
it is temporary
the mirrored faces reflecting back into one
it is as temporary as the sun
it is temporary
this burning body of youth
it is temporary insanity
and temporary truth
and moveable pieces
in the bottle of corked vermouth
it is ungrateful youth
and all her fantasy
and erotic opportunity
the days of endless sunshine
fogged with cascading rain
full of superficial pain
that only sets into the skin to rise up
much later
blemished traitors
of your failing past
it is temporary
the primping of memories undone
it is as temporary as the blazing gun
it is temporary
it is fleeting
and no matter how these products
keep us believing
they are nothing more
then distractions, they are deceiving
as the sand is thrown in our glossy eyes
and stars that once opened in the night sky
just for us
open no more
and we retire from the bridled gore
of youth and her tireless war
and forever more
must sing the songs of fading youth
and curse the uncouth
the way the years
have wandered by
without any proper goodbye
and we, as strangers
in this looming unknown
we must come to know
as past our prime
past our time
and be spectators
into the theatre of vanity
we are now excluded from
oh, how we wish we’d undone
the regrets and missteps
but we are denied
to ever confide
the wisdom we’ve gained
since beauty and youth
have fled
we are condemned
to be voiceless passengers
on our train ride to the end
yet, this is temporary
as temporary as you and i
the ailing sky
the aching stars
the rolling hilltops
tracing to the mouth of the river
and when we are at once delivered
to a final resting stop
we pray, we hope
as tooth and nail dragged
we try to cope
to be temporary no more
temporary no more
temporary no more
temporary no more
