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September 27, 2004

Rocks by the campfire

The foreigner is surrounded by curious natives,
who - being mostly older members of their tribe -
know to keep their distance while they explore.

They stand back, occasionally stepping into frame
with an enigmatic remark, a riddle, coyness, metaphors
even the occasional moment of unwarranted affection or sentimentality
-just to keep things interesting.

The languages are not the same.
The words they use are in place of other ones they can't use.
So they all have that in common.

She, equally intrigued and engaged, pushes gently back.
These beautiful beasts are foreign to her as well.
She knows, as they know, the importance of guarding herself.

They dart in closer, then quickly back out of the light.
Her moves are slight and well calculated.
It becomes an enjoyable, soothing dance.
Easy enough to go on for a long time.

If either the foreigner or the natives
truly learn anything about each other during this engagement
is still unclear.

The persistence of the cycle suggests a pleasurable result.
Although little more is known about it.

Posted by kati at September 27, 2004 11:18 PM


You are the Margaret Mead of our little CH world.

Posted by: robyn at September 28, 2004 12:08 PM

Some say theatre started around the campfire. But we all know it came from a fire like the one in you. Possibly one and the same.

You are ever debauched in my thoughts, though I sit with celebrated refinement.

Posted by: P Willy at September 29, 2004 12:58 PM