I'm only temporary, working at your desk on Saturdays, trying to know you by the things you've brought here - the dried white roses from your niece's confirmation, the birthday card, signed "Remember me - from Carlos, forever," the plaster Pieta surrounded by a family of tiny frogs heading straight for the window, not to mention the "art" calendar tucked away in a corner with the photo of a bronzed naked man in profile on the cover (see also, the merry month of May) wearing a feathered headband, his right thigh coyly lifted up to hide his manhood, brandishing a sword. (I mean the man is doing the brandishing, not his…well, why be so coy about it?)
Sometimes I take a break and look through your pocket dictionary of the meaning of dreams and numbers. Page 62, dog-eared for easy access, says, "Dream of spiders, by all means, I dare you, but your dream of a spider sitting on a telephone that rings three times can mean only one thing, that you must pay your bill immediately or you will be visited by the spirit of St. Francis of Assisi, who will offer you pears out of season, and you know what that means (see 173, Pears, unripe)."
I can't help wondering about the snapshots taped around the monitor of your personal computer: do the adorable newborn kittens entwined in pastel balls of yarn belong to you, or are they some generic photo-cats that you just had to bring back to the office when you saw them in the sale bin of an all-night discount drug store? And although I hate to criticize your taste in knickknacks, since I've never even met you, the only thing I can say about the plastic fighting rooster in a wire mesh cage ("Bienvenido a Mexico!") is take it back, or toss it, quick!
Still, most of all, I love what you've done with
your mirror, completely obscuring it with an autographed full color pin-up
of the Madonna who sings and dances, bent in an ecstasy of her own making,
side by side with a blown-up Xerox black-and-white copy of a portrait of
Jesus, our savior, wearing on his chest the blessed, beating, bleeding
heart of mercy that you've painted, using your very own bottle of Precious
Poppy nail polish, the deepest red of all.
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