pyramids of salt
Mary was alone in the beach
staring at turquoise sea.
All in her was saying:
“I am not from here”
Her white skin,
The book in her hands
Her legs under the gold sand
like she wanted to vanish into it.
Her wish of being unnoticed
would have to wait for other day,
Teresa had put an eye in her.
Teresa came without invitation
Moving her body,
How she only knows.
She introduced herself as an artisan
Who grew up in this place.
The old fortress was her playground,
The Caribbean Sea her bathtub.
She told the story about herself
like if she was telling, how was her day.
Her father died when she was 12,
On her shoulders,
A sick mother and 3 siblings to feed.
She had to learn how to survive,
Salt stones, coconut shells and tourists,
were what she had.
She had survived selling to tourist
whatever she could made by her hands.
Sometimes earrings, sometimes necklaces
Other times pyramids of salt.
Mary had drunk some beers,
Maybe for that
She spoke like never before,
She told about her reasons for being there,
Her black and white life,
Her senseless job,
Her taciturn husband,
Her wish for being another person,
A person like Teresa,
Free to sleep at any hours,
Free to stay wherever she wanted
without schedules and rules.
They talked like best friends,
Although they never met before,
Boyfriends, betrays, dreams.
All was important.
They saw the sun moved through the sky,
To finally hiding behind the fortress.
They saw the moon appear
And stories continued…