Fields of Gold


Sting singing Cassidy’s ‘Fields of Gold’.

It reminds me of my youth….

He was a ‘bad guy’…it wasn’t so much that he was the most beautiful he was not even close…I had the most beautiful many years later…but I had not met him yet to love him…Something about those brown eyes snagged me…Brown eyes were rare in these parts then. Lanky, lambhu tall with laughing eyes and a delightful liars smile….he was the ultimate trickster. He could pull quarters out of your ears and make kabootar disappear in thin air…he was a real life Magician. He was also the only person in 1000 miles who knew anything about SW Asia. It was a common interest…he for the Djinni and me for the archaeology and history. We were not each others type…but we could not help it we fell in love at the local disco…I stayed faithful to him for three years until I married him when I was 19.

Welcome to the world of drugs and alcohol. Not the experiments that were a one time thing…but the daily events of pushing and buying. Welcome to the world of Rock and Roll…Vitame Vas from the post-card of Oklahoman Bohemia…

Sometimes the loves of my life come back to haunt me. I cannot forget any of them. There are days they are stars in my empty skies and nights they are mountains that crush my soul…but I loved with all of me every time. You never lose love…it stays with you.

It was not until much later in life that the wisdom of ‘staying a rose’ became preferable to what was already too late to forget. You see you never forget love. Every love you ever had walks through dreams and memories and when you are young and strong and healthy it seems so easy to hunt down another one…maybe this one will make you forget?????

It does not work that way.

Like diamonds on rusty chains that bind you for eternity they mock you with the unreachable glow of what was….

….how I envy the innocent.

Youth believes it wants and desires ‘THE ONE’….age knows that when you get ‘the one’ that one becomes a human being and like a house you rent that is awesome for two weeks becomes tainted with time as the flaws and cracks become evident to it’s inhabitant…and yet when we leave the house we cry over every bit of chipped sheet rock….we may never tell anyone or we may tell the world but you cannot dump your brain like you can your desktop….

He was a ‘bad-guy’. With him I learned about the world of deception and police officers beating him and cuffing him and carrying him off and how he made them so angry with his Houdini-like knowledge of Yoga: They could never handcuff him and it made him laugh so they beat him while he cussed them. The part of him the world never saw was the part that cried over a missing mother and a broken family and a kind of hopelessness that was unrelenting. How we could dance! How his smile flashed in the mirrored lights! How drunk I was as I walked up the church isle to say the words in front of the priest and how much I loved him he never knew.

One year together and we were divourced. I asked him and I divourced him and learned too much about how my mother delighted in every divource and how she lived her desire through me in each one…I was and am still the needed vessel.

He hit me. no one does that and walks off scot free.

I would strip tease to make money for him. I would let him drive me to see clients… I would do anything for him but let him hit me.

I got a letter from him from Lexington. he won’t be leaving until he is 65. ‘Pulled one too many a gun in shoot-outs with the cops…stole one too many bags of dope…

…but once upon a time when the world was young he smiled at me and pulled a quarter from my ear…

…You never forget who you have loved…never.

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