An Offbeat Thought

By Velington Afonso

I heard from you after a really long time. I heard you call out my name in the chaos. It was faint but, I

remember how you used to sound – from low to high, soft to crisp and pious to lewd – I remember

you. I tried to follow the voice in and through the huddles of honking cars and distress sirens. The

unclear chattering and almost clever song of a thoughtful bird that was trying to fit its pitch in the

mess. The hot sun and humid breeze were adding the tempo to my heart. I felt like Super Mario

chasing my princess.   

I wasn't about to let anything come in between us; lose or abandon you, as I did in my old days.

Now, that my numbers are heavy, it adds weight to everything – my thoughts, my emotions, and, my

decisions – particularly the one I am chasing. I let the bubbled reputation and the spotlight blind me

in the yesteryears – unable to give you time and attention. Now, I knew, if I did not listen to, you'd

lose you, the very little, and what is left of you.   

Like Sforzando, I pushed my way through the crowd of dotted semibreves, jumped a few flats,

skidded a few slurs and patiently waited for the rests of traffic. But I was at your doorstep, my

doorstep, our doorstep. Home. I was home the one I walked away from. I was Molto vivace but, was

unsure of what to do next.  

I was desperate to push open the door. My heart was telling me one thing while my mind was saying

another; both the thoughts were sharp and equally contrasting – an octave lower - to one another.

My heart was only singing the tunes that made me fall in love with you, the times I was drunk and

you filled my thoughts with your melody. While, my mind was trying to remind me how tone deaf I

was to you, faking my smile, success, and fanfare to the world of dead. I also remember my fingers

running on you, feeding my thirst and quenching my hunger, religiously satisfying my lust.   

With a Forte, I kicked open the door; there you were, in black – luster of an eclipsed moon and a

widow of sin. The curve of your lid, and those tall skinny legs. Just like the old times, except you

were not alone and yet you were luring me in.

By Velington Afonso