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 She is poetry of the Apocolypse in fire-breathing action.
 I stopped on the busy street corner, as she emerged from the bathroom of the cafe where the poetry reading was going on.
 She’d decided at the last minute that it was more important to take a dump than participate in the reading.  Now I  stood looking at Narcisa in awe as the words suddenly flowed from her mouth like a rushing wind of abstraction and absurdity.
 Narcisa. Living Theater of the Absurd…
  “The feces has never been so solid.. An’ while I defecate today, I am whole time
thinking, ’shit of a civil code! Fucking constitution! Shit shit shit!!! So-call Civil “rights” that require the imposition of Duty on the e’stupid cit’zen!!! Race of cows. Fuck it the goverment!”
  She spat the last word out like she was expelling a demonic entity.
 I confess, I didn’t understand a fucking word she was saying, but I listened captivated in amazed fascination as she ranted on.
 I noticed a few people standing nearby were also staring. The usual.
  “I would even prefer it the fucking church, man, the sacerdotes, the confessional, repitious prayers to altars repleat with so-called “sacred” imagery. Christicious crusifixations! Shit shit shit, Cigano. IS ALL SHIT!!!”
  ”What were you doing in that bathroom for so long, baby,” I asked, for want of anything else to say.
  ”What e’ stupid question, Cigano. ‘What you doing in bathroom?’ I am looking inside to it my own poo-sy!”
  “What didja find there, baby?” I said, laughing.
  “I find it she dirty an’ cold an’ dry from the disappointment.”
  “Disappointment?” I said with concern. “Have I somehow let her down?”
  “No is the disappointment at you, Cigano,” she said sweetly, eyeing me suddenly with that same warm, loving concern.
  “I only say these like the metaphor for the whole fucking shit civilization in general.”
 Oh well. That made me feel much better. Whatever.
 ”Must to develop a formula to ENLARGE things, Cigano, got it?”
  I just sat there and waited for her to conclude.
 Suddenly, as if she instinctively felt all those eyes on her, she abruptly turned to where a group of astonished onlookers had gathered and stood staring.
 She had finally and definitively decided to  abandon her constipated  little haunted realm of self obsession and a thousand broken mirror images of herself in all her forms of madness and psychedelic enlightenment for just long enough to deliver an eloquent and bizarre little message from the shadow world to the remnants of the poetry reading she hadn’t had the patience to attend. She let it all fly.
  “Imagine a gigantic penis,” she announced dramatically, looking right at the crowd of astonished people standing there like baffled sheep.
  “A giant penis, peoples, got it?? Throwing liters and liters of flying sperm to rain down on the head of the whole marching military band of humanity… For see it if maybe they gonna grow a crop of brains in the rotten graveyard of they dead fucking imagination. Okey, now. Show over. Thank you, come again…”
  Then she jumped up on the motorcycle behind me and barked like a dog “woof woof woof!” As I fired up the bike and rode off laughing, still thinking of the expressions on the faces of the people back there.
What a show!

Copyright Jonathan Shaw 2008.

NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.