five women: penelope

Posted on June 28, 2009


i have at the soul level only ever known five women if you dont count my mother: a german, a persian, an argentinian, an italian and an american. now i will talk about them & say what i need to say.

today i will talk about the german woman.

this woman is in a way the most difficult one to talk about because she was my first, and because it was a long time ago, and because there is still guilt. then again guilt comes with every one of these women & perhaps that’s what makes them worth remembering, perhaps that’s why i hold them dear in my heart.

her name was penelope.

she was two years older than me, freckled and pale, her hair toying with red without real commitment. she played the guitar and she sang like a lady of courtly love. she did not take me seriously at first – i sat at her feet: an invisible worshipper before a goddess, one of a number of young males, all of us unattractive in our own manner and unsure of ourselves, in particular of our maleness, which hung on us like a new uncomfortable coat, always the same coat in any weather, hot or cold, but we were stuck with it & we believed, with the faces of our fathers fused to our thick clumsy frames, that it would, one day, hopefully soon, fit us and feel right, no matter what temperature.

The remenant of the tale is long ynough.

throughout one of those overheated summers, penelope sang and sang herself into my heart. day by day, there were less men shuffling nervously around her, eventually they receded & became part of her audience so that she could see me as a man who wanted her & whom she wanted.

graffitti luv.

around that time a malheur happened to her and she broke her ankle so that she had to walk around in a cast. when we made love for the first time, this severely limited our acrobatic aspirations but made the moment more memorable. the cast was covered with graffiti, an artistically most promising thing it was.

moment of truth.

as i said, i had never been with a woman like this before & i went for it like a starved dog for the bone & i didnt think about taking proper precautions which in those days long gone involved carrying and using a condome: it simply had not occurred to me. neither did it occur to her until after the moment was gone (dear reader! it is difficult to write about what actually happened – i will leave it to others, braver ones, to serve you the juicy detail).

Have mercy on oure wo and oure distresse!

i recall that we sat together afterwards at candlelight (big in those days and perhaps still where hyppies live) & it suddenly dawned on both of us that we might have made a person by melting into each other. i remember the shocked expression in her eyes and my surprise at that. it made me see then and there the difference between the depth of our love for one another though i didnt realise it then and dont want to believe it now, still.

Of the bodies, and the grete honour.

her mound by the way then seemed to be as wide as the bosporus, filled with earthly delights, and for the first time i felt powers that i could not & did not want to harness. like a ship leaving the wharf after that long build, after endless dreaming of endless horizon and the swelling seas. like knowing that falling & letting yourself fall is a little death & only one of many many little deaths to come, and yet the fall is so sweet & the ground seems so near so near.

Shortly for to telle is myn entente.

penelope and i parted ways soon after when she moved to the south. got together again, briefly, years later, upon which i managed to expertly break her heart with chivalrous brutality that i had acquired in the meantime, the mean time that it took me to come into my might which penelope had shared with me as her gift.

© 2009 finnegan flawnt with a little help from Chaucer.

Posted in: autoeroticpilot