luciabordeianu

I just became friend with a Polish boy.

And how this hapened?

Well, I supose because he also felt

so alone

between the other Polish boys…

And maybe we both knew

how uneasy is to play a character’s role

in a such wide colorfull world.

Like a painter who stares,

for a suspended moment,

wondering himself what colour to use

and sometimes highligther paints are chosed

just to atract or impress

the viewers views…

But we found out that we have long scars

on our skins,

after all seasons through we changed

several times from black to white

and reverse.

He told me you know, these white lines

reveal we are tigers!

So until the end of our programm

we showed around

our white sharped teeth,

disquised in smiles,

we roared pulling the hard metals

with bare hands,

coordinating our movements

in a tribal dance with the steel

and machines.

a girl becomes true

warrior

the moment she can ride her

manual transmission car

on A50 highway

and paint eyelashes

in rearview mirror

using black mascara.

she wears

long hair braided tightly in two tails,

red lasting lipstick

as warning sign,

old scars in her heart,

new ones on her cold

skin.

a girl becomes true

warrior

when

she can listen all your words,

swords breaking through

her flesh and bones,

when

she can fly

or dance

or jump

or walk

under world’s cruel view,

where she only fights

to survive

for this species.

She listens that Ukrainian rock band on stage,

but, behind her closed eyes,

a flamingo dancer, in red dress,

spins and beats the ground.

She has meeting with management,

but, outside offices windows, the sky is so blue!

a bird spreads its wings

and leaves the roof.

She crosses the fresh green yard

with laptop in her hand,

but she is chewing two mint gums

and tongue makes balloones,

while rap of Tupac invades her ears.

She sees you riding the bycicle,

cuting the cold air of an ordinary morning,

with your look of a mad warrior

at the end of the battlefield.

She smokes and drinks her coffee,

checking in mind the working day’s

to do list.

a smile rises in a corner of her lips,

‘cause she knows only to ride horses,

not bycicles.

She goes by the forest right before sunrise.

trees open the path and she feels with her legs

the warmth of black animal.

She opens the computer and logs

into the system

using an user

and a password.

was after that black year.

2015.

back then, I experienced a complicated relationship with Death.

after knowing her, everything changes.

colours and shapes,

the invisible becomes visible,

earth is just a small ball in the pocket

of your old second hand jeans.

after you learn how to dance with death,

steps, rythm,

what else could stone you anymore?

so I was sure THAT WAS THE END.

I’ve noticed that after all kind of endings I passed through,

peoples do miracles inside me.

I believed was not the case anymore.

„girl, stop relying on patterns!”,

I said to myself.

BUT, in 2016, the truth is that I fucked Death!

I fucked everybody!

my job, my friends, my terrestrial ambitions,

my finances, my social status,

my fears, my limits.

you all went crazy looking at me, ah?

I was that little brownian particle

in your perfect system, n’est pas?

yeah!

was great!

then I met Charles,

downtown, in the medieval city.

his face was old, but he seemed so fresh!

he looked at me with that hidden smile

and said: „women!”

now we are living in same house,

sharing same room, for which

he doesn’t spend any money

to pay rent.

this son of a bitch!