She laughed warmly and heartily into my ears over the phone as I told her I was still on my numerous glasses of lemon ginger and honey concoctions and had been so the whole day.”I still have my pills in the bag if you want some,”this she said as she laughed on.
I remember telling her the previous day I was no fan of pills or drugs unless it was a puff of pot.She laughed so hard eating off an entire two or three minutes with laughter.Wasn’t counting though as the laughter was quite contagious.Could have been five.
She wiped off the tears at the edge of her eyes as she chuckled down her ebbing laughter,put her nimble yet neat hands on the table.Pretty manicured in a good baby pink I must admit.
She looked me square in the face and asked if I was serious on my pot weeding story.Laughing hard and deep I looked back into her and asked if she knew the kind of effect a good puff of authentically dried and rolled pot felt like in the head?
Her smile lingered on as if in thought or contemplation…her lips moved as if to imagine the feel of its taste on them then she looked back at me and with those beautiful black irises upon a milk white background said no.”Such a pure soul this one is,”I reiterated to myself.
I honestly don’t know where and why I get this strong urges to just pot away uninterrupted.Sometimes I think it is the feeling of doing something wrong that urges me on.Maybe I should fight these urges huh?Ten of you are nodding but the minority strong three are saying no…hahahah all in my head I guess.
On the flipside however,I hear everyone has a poison however good they are on the surface.I wonder what her’s is.Hahaha maybe with long life and God’s grace someday I will sure find out.
So what is your poison and what good or bad does it bring to society,to you or to both society and you in tandem?Ever thought along those lines even for a moment?
While the lady in red ebbed off her hearty laughter over the phone,I told her our friendship had been sadly ended by her laughter and that my cold would sure be gone come the day next.When I met her the other day she wasn’t really in red though save for her inchy red stilletos and with the legs for days she got,they sure blended well into each other.
I look into my sky and the heavy grey clouds behind whips of fading silver linings is un-assumable.Still they hold so much beauty within them.Ten minutes later with a series of overlaps and hooting from other commuters,I am seated at this utility store along Limuru road and staring at the dark sky above in awe.
There are no stars in my sky thus it ain’t the constellations that draw in my essence.Rather,there is an amazing co-relation and an awe in the seamless union between the day and night via the approach of dusk.I would love to catch darkness in the act as she steals away the daylight.I bet non of you ever has.Feels like catching the sun red-handed or is it set-handed as he disappears into the red horizon,quite a fete that would be.
So where once my beautiful grey clouds fought with the silver in an attempt to burst into rain now remains a mask of darkness.The only squeeze they managed was a little drizzle making the tarmac wetter and earth a little damper.
The sweet smell that once came with the onset of the rains is nowhere in the wind.It however,has been swept away into the rivers abroad.The winged termites also must have been eaten away by birds up in the air .
In its place though is this sweet cold air that blows to fill my nostrils and hence lungs with a freshness of a thousand winds.Scientists speak of ocean currents say cold Benguela currents and warm Aghulas currents meeting to breed new aquatic life.I also believe that even winds do meet to spring up new life and strength whilst we aren’t watching.I mean,my soul feels at peace even as I sit and breathe in the freshness of this evening.Not even the scent of gasoline along the edges can beat the ultimate bounce of freshness along my grain.
A little lighting to the streets and am allowed a view of a displaced city acacia tree top.Insects dance to the light as bats whoop over and above.A little mist forms beyond forcing me to reminisce and yearn for the Limuru mist or view of Sagana hilltop’s fog.If you love the outdoors in its full splendour,then would you appreciate what am talking about.
My nose is blocking up and running with a cold.My tenth glass of concoction today is becoming colder and hence I am force to come off my ruminations.
Allow PePa to say goodbye to the evening as I await another day of God’ s blessings and beauty.This Spanish tune of the El Mariachi behind Vicente Fernandez’s Amor Bravio song plays a good note to my ears.