The Lizard and I

“Helm” stepped into the bath tub, turned on the water, as hot as his scalp and hairless body can tolerate without blistering. He was not disappointed by the football game, since he already knew that, as usual, the team that he was favoring would lose, but he got to spend sometime with his grandfather.

This grandfather of his, Hulm thinks, is a very interesting person; since the time his friend died, he spent all of his awake moments reading, one book after the other. He, after completing a book, would sign the first page of it, in order not to make the mistake of reading it again. Once, just teasing him, Hulm tore off the first page of a novel he already had read. Grandfather, his name was Fourthdimention by the way, read it again, got surprised at the same events, excited at the same corners, disinterested with the exact parts of the plot that he had been bored with before, and disliked the evolution of the story altogether. H commented on the flowery style of the author, and announced his decision not to read anything written by that writer from then on. Of course, he failed to remember that he had read the book already months before that, and made the same comments, and announced the same decisions. Hulm smiled as he remembered the expression on his grandfather’s face when he adopted his name; Fouthdimention. Just like that, with no explanations or expectations of a critique.

His late friend and he, Fouthdimention that is, had been inseparable. They would start up a conversation that no one else was remotely interested in, and continue their debates for hours on end. They would, in the midst of their talk forget which side they were on and the opinion that they believed in. Their opinions would switch back and fourth, one would defend his view, then, without a notice would continue defending the other’s opinion, with the same vigor. The conversation would end also, in the same way, suddenly abandoning the build up and the enthusiasm and they would get busy petting the cats, ironing, picking up the telephone and calling for a prescription or even clipping coupons.
They shared everything, even, without being aware, or that how it seemed, their dentures.

On the edge of the tub, just behind the shampoo bottles, there was the lizard. Perfectly albino, one could see through its skin the lungs and the guts. Nothing elegant about it, not even the perfectly turned up sharp tail or the perfectly spherical eyes mounted, as if by crazy glue, onto the edge of the pale pink face. A color challenged creature. Would definitely die, Hulm thought, in the sun. The only thing which would tan in it would be its spine if it had any. Ugly creature, which he had hated since years, but disappeared when the vine at their balcony was burnt. He was relieved then. But it seems that the mutilated creature would not let him escape.

The site of it brought back long forgotten memories. Memories of the hours he would spend watching the lizard stagnate on the wall, warming up at the lamplight, and just being. Nasty, useless, annoying and deadly quiet. It was and still is harmless, but he couldn’t figure out why it existed at all. What was the wisdom behind its existence, ugly and surely with a rotten taste that no predator would want.

He used to watch it so hard; thinking that anger emanating from his head will make it disappear, burn. Focus so hard on its scarce moves, deeply wishing someone else would become as annoyed, and do something to rid the world of it. May be getting rid of it for his sake, at least. But none would. They would continue doing their useless petty things and not noticing the lizard. And, not noticing him.

The lizard is still here. So is he. Everyone else continued doing their small things and the small things continued to be small, but enough to keep everyone else’s small world full.

His mother; Tigris, dissatisfied with her esteemed offspring had decided to disappear, told no one, never called back, she only rarely, sent a card, with no return address, and with a picture, completely uncharacteristic of a place, addressed to the family house and starting with ” to…”. Then signed: “Tigris”.

Ever unhappy Raheema, his sister, is always living inside herself, her eyes looking inwards, except for the brief times she watches some shows on the television. As soon as the show is over, the eyes flip back inwards, like the girl in the exorcist film. And her smile disappears. She was listening to a song yesterday; so unlike her.

Older brother Demoozi, was the closest person to him, or may be he just wished he was, had mentally disappeared. Became a cloud, dense fog to everyone, even to his poor friend Breeze. Breeze had accepted moving in with him, accepted watching the gate, living in the small room in the garden, with him. He thought that finally they will be together. Instead, Demoozi floated away, and since, Breeze is spending the days watching him and for him, not the gate.

It was a nutty family, even the cats were nutty it seemed. The only satisfied person was the grandfather; he has been always satisfied, it was not the age, or the accumulation of wisdom. Had it been that, it would have or should have helped his grandmother, who after changing so many friends, so often, that a single bra of hers would outlast three of them. She only settled for this last, almost mute, friend that she is with now because she was not able to go up and down the stairs anymore. Therefore, she decided to save herself the knee pains and ask one of her old hags to come in and live with her.

He finished drying up his skin, used a blow drier for his crevices and sat in front of his computer for cybertherapy. He actually favored that mode of therapy; no appointments, no hours, he talked when he felt like talking, not when he was supposed to talk. He still had difficulty to emotionally switch on, and then off as per the dictation of the ticking hour.





La vie

Life goes on.

As Leonardo had once said:” Life is movement, and movement is life”.

It is time to move on; it is time for Breeze to breeze away.

Demoozi can continue his sun worship. But I cannot.

Not only because, but most importantly because: The moon is slumber-ing. And; the nights are getting cold. And I do not want to freeze.

I shall Breeze away.

My left eye is swollen, from sleeping on my left face side.

My right – eye that is- is numb, for not being used for long.

Remember Vitruvian? He was complete; both right and left.

Grass does grow in the spring, but, is, futile.

A rose tree, if nourished, flowers for the second time in autumn.

Three are the father, the son and the Spirit.

Three is the late night Moslem prayer.

Ask anyone to name what they like most; they will name 3.

“3” has 3 edges in both the Indian and Arabic script.


Pronouncing “3”: One would go from the teeth to the palate and then to the throat; again “3”. Then it gets swallowed.

The triangle with 3 sides is the most stable figure.

The obelisk has a triangle at its tip.

The pyramid, if seen from one side is; triangular.

Jesus died at thirty three.

Mohammad; at sixty three, which is, again, 3 and three and three.

The redefinition of the three is strictly coincidental.

Three are the worshipped.

Three are the sea, sand and sky,

Three are the soul, body and mind,

Three are the woman, man and son,

Three are the phrases of a song,

Threes are the sorrows….

Creations of God are 3: Angels, demons, and, of course, us.

Grapes are harvested, ripe, in the third season of each year.

Olives are best picked in autumn.

Wine colors itself is in “3”: White, red, and rose’e.

Cactus and yet some other beings, live all year.





‘Muscles all ribbed, one can actually count the fibers if there is enough time. Actually, time is abundant.

Demoozi has been sitting under that solitary weeping tree for seasons now; he thinks that it is the perfect place to wait for her return; since it is large, shadowy, bitter, sad with grandeur, slow in perfume infusion of the surrounding air, un-intimidating, and untouchable.

He is exposing his skin not to the light, but the shadow, trying to get that perfect coffee bean roast color and the slightly golden hue to his short fine body hair.
He sometimes conforms to the Thinker, sometimes to Kefru, and sometimes to the relatively tiny stem of a white tulip. He bends his body and merges spiritually with the white leaves and allow the bees to brush against his eyelashes with there tail tufts and rub his nostrils with their ever-searching arms. Butterflies land on the helix of his ears, slowly, comfortably waving the pollens off their wings and resting; absorbing some of his body heat.

Even his lids blink too fast to be noticed. Quick enough, not to miss any fragment of a second during which she may reappear.

Few seasons had passed, and he has been ready since years. She had walked away dragging the tail of her dark blue dress over the green grass. She did not promise she will be back. He thought she didn’t have to, she will, because he had already started getting ready.

Colors around him systematically and sequentially change, but not to the perfect shade he is seeking yet. Like his skin, not to the perfect depth.

One can draw perfect straight lines between his shoulders and his neck, his neck and his back, shoulders, and between his eyebrows; geometrical, square, no tangents.

Around his belly button, lilacs, tiny ones, had grown. That was where she had last put her lips and placed an endearing, spring like, damp, not wet, kiss.

Toes are the only constantly moving part of him, besides his heart, that is; constantly digging, then covering, small holes in the warm sand underneath. Rows of small brown ants detour his feet, grasshoppers land on his knees as relays.

Ferns with a green slender stem grows around his right loin a bit, in their journey towards the more reliable Keena tree trunk. Had they known better, they would have clung to Demoozi; he is as reliable, may be even more than the Keena.

He was always facing the other way, away from the only door in the garden wall, thus, not needing to cover any part of his body; only his back can be seen from the outside, and that is alright.’

Raheema, stepped in without knocking and girlishly called upon Demoozi, wanting to show off her new looks. He quickly looked around, but she was not who he had been awaiting. His look, wound back inside, his darks brown iridae quickly extinguished, and he turned back, to his usual self, back inside.

Not at all surprised, she walked in, into the kitchen, where Breeze was. She had noticed Breeze watching Demoozi through the kitchen window, with a down look, a steady thoughtless gaze; a gaze like that of autumn, watching the wilting of a rose, the migration of a bird.

“Well, hello, all new Raheema! so, finally you got rid of those accessory glands you had. Good for you.”

“Thank you Breeze. You are the wisest garden keeper in the whole town. I feel great, I look great.”

“To each his own”

A quick glance over his shoulder, through the window. “Unlike our friend there, looking so perfect, but feeling so hollow and incomplete.”

“Do you think she’ll ever return for him?”

“If she returns, it won’t be for him, women never do, not even mothers, and there are never look-alikes. He worshiped the idea of Ashtar in her, adopted the name of Demoozi, and loved the delusion that they will always return for each other, defeat death, and unite. She had left; into the desert, or the seashore, or may be the forest. He keeps himself ready for her. He doesn’t pay anyone or anything else any attention. I do not know what to offer him. I am nervous, and I am sad”

“He knows that you are not leaving.”

“Yes, he knows, I think”

“Would you like to have lunch together?”

“I am sorry; I had promised Hakeem to cook for him today”

“You love cooking, don’t you? And who is Hakeem?”

“A new friend that I met, I like conversing with him, he explains things to me.”

“Good for you. May be Demoozi will also enjoy the change”

“Ha… He wouldn’t even notice”

“Then let us plan something for next week”

Off she left, did not wait for an answer, did not close the doors behind her, enjoying the touch of the tantalizing red satin dress on her skin, And the clean feeling of air moving over her newly shaven scalp.

On her way out, she stared at the chiseled back of Demoozi, the nape of his neck, the contoured back of his head, all bathing in the warm rays of the noon sun and thought; “He does look like a sunflower.”


Single Eyed Limpy

Limpy limped in with a bandaged eye this time.
Nao, who had been licking his cheeks, was thinking that he was getting better and better reaching far places on his face with his tongue year after year. Might be at the turn of the decade he would be able to reach his ears without the need for his fists. He was entertaining and enjoying that idea when he saw the pathetic looks of Limpy. All activities then halted, and his eyes almost popped out. Limpy said: “Oh, don’t look so devastated now as if you care, you didn’t even when I was all young and in love with you, you little bastard.”
Nao swallowed, almost his tongue: “You are right, but what happened to you, your eye?”
With a swift experienced move, Limpy removed the bandage and helped herself to the residual meat of what had been chicken wings in Nao’s bowl.
She added: “It’s a fake. I use this trick when I seek sympathy, along with soiling my hair and pulling out some tufts from around my back”
“You harlot”
“Mm, I love this expression, where did you learn it? “Harlot”! yes, that’s me. Thank you doll”
“So, who is the victim this time?”
“Oh, no one, I just felt like passing sometime in that feline internet café, so, my dear, I pulled on these looks, some tears, and told the witch there that I had to see my daughters online; It worked”
“And since when have you been missing them?”
“I haven’t, but I used them in order to access the web, I had to send a message to…, what was his name? Do not remember, actually he had not given me a name. I do not care about names anyway.”
“Now you are talking; anonymous romantic rendezvous is more like you, not the loving missing mom. So, any news?”
“ I just left a message, told him I’ll be waiting in, not in front but inside, the “Only blue bags” container in front, guess what, your building, Nao, I am having a date right under your nose; your little pink lovely wet nose”
“I meant news from your daughters, dear”
“Oh, them. They are alright I guess, in there Nowherestan. Happy with the small gadgets they buy, and with their never ending offspring. Nothing has changed since they left, still sticking to one another like the blind kittens they were, and do their best to offend me with their silence. As if I care. Do you see me care, Nao?”
“But of course, you are the icon of maternal self sacrifice.”
“See, oh, thank you precious”. Nao rolled up his eyes and returned to grooming himself.
“I have to admit to one thing; those four daughters of mine are always together, one is farsighted by the way, her sister was reading to her what I occasionally wrote. They move together in the same space, they actually share one space, no boundaries; a magnetic field in unison; hehe. Sometimes I wonder: did I have a role in nurturing this love between them? “
“Surely, you did; you threw them away, together, and walked away from them all together at the same time. Therefore Limpy, for their togetherness, I guess you did earn the credit.”
“You are right; as harsh as it may sound, I think I did them well, left them hungry together. Now they continue to support each other and stand for each other. I was a good mom after all.”
“A point of correction Limpy, I do not think that you had their well being in mind”
“Haven’t, I? Ok, I haven’t. Well, I needed my space, and there were four of them, forget it. I am happy now”

“Oh by the way, Raheema is back today from wherever she was; she looks beautiful but still as… distant as ever”

“Ah, Raheema is back! I love that woman, I sure will have a cat chat with her sometime. Any more chicken wings dearest?”





Raheema was preparing herself to leave the hospital, when her beaten up roommate suddenly asked her, and without any warmup: “Can we be friends? “

Without pausing, “I don’t want a friend, I want to love and be loved” she replied.

“But there are many spaces where you get love; friendship is love, nature is love, petting is love, parenting is love.

Love is not a quantum that you give or receive, although exchanging energy comes most vividly with physical invasion, but, love comes only when you are in a constant state of emotional exchange.

It is like being in a harmonized place, a state in which it becomes only natural to attract people, animals, flowers; even a fresh breeze will be attracted to you.

When you are in a state of love you actually are in a state of lowest energy, don’t get me wrong, it is a harmony that is full of internal energy but carries no outside negative sink, so you don’t just attract others to discharge whatever they have into you then go on and leave you, but rather they will internalize into you, be part of you and grow with you.”

“Like the sperm getting internalized into the ovum.”

“Precisely, you become one, like an embryo which grows, carrying both parts and featuring both elements and respecting each single trait of the sperm and the ovum.”

“Then, you do agree that friendship does not match to love, even the example you have so vividly described, only got materialized in your head because of the idea of love”

“Please, do not mix up two different things. I just used that example because it is closer to your way of thinking, but I can also use salt and water, sugar and tea, coffee and milk, blue and the sea, cloud and the rain, sight and sound, “

“These things are separable by heating, cooling or many other means, but an embryo cannot separate into its elements.

“That only happens if you intend to separate them, if you want to let go, and if that is the case, then you are not talking of love or friendship”

“Think of the black and white of the Ying and Yang they are not grey, they are separable.”

“True, but try and separate them, then, you lose them. That adds to the beauty of friendship, and clarifies it; each is definitely unique and delineated, yet complimentary and fulfilling to the other.

Friends stay together longer than so called lovers, because they like to stay together and yet they don’t need each other to be.

Real love is identical, when one is in a constant field of love, whatever or whoever comes or leaves, the field stays, the integrity persists.

The love that you are talking about is not love, it cannot be love if without it you’ll feel empty and hollow, it can’t be love if it only covers or shields the deep hollow below your chest bone, that hollow should be filled before you even can have anything clinging to you.

You know that hollow only fills up when you are in the field. You have to work hard to get and stay there; Some relationships, drugs, alcohol, rituals, take you momentarily there, but then when that thing disappears you are expelled out, outside the field. If you are not ready, you’ll cling so hard to that means which had transported you there, but you will not enjoy the field; you will be preoccupied and busy clinging.

Bottom line; you have to be there, in the field, alone first in order to be able to stay comfortably there.

That happens only when you are ready.

And guess what; the best relationships will happen with people, animals or even flowers that are comfortably there.

Frankly my dear, I think the smartest living entity out there is a plant.”

“So what do you want?”




“Kitty, Divina, why are you sad? What is your secret?”

Inverted half moons looked up with a hint of disgust: “get lost” she said.

In her head, clouds were passing by, quickly as if moved by a tornado, but only to uncover more clouds, grey pushing grey, black pushing dotted black; no blue or yellow to be seen.

She was trying to unveil what was all the head chaos about, when that human jerk interfered thinking he had the solution.

Her skull arteries were hammering her brain as hard as one would trying to squeeze oil out of a tiny sesame seed.

Yet the brain was seeping with all kinds of soot water instead.

She just couldn’t conceive the fact that her twins had left; moved away with no notice and no mention of their whereabouts.

It started when they started finishing the meals separately, not waiting for her and not even for each other.

Then they stopped leaving her any leftovers, and finally they left all the meal as leftover, along with her.

They left everything over, and disappeared, with no note whether they would be together or they were over her, or even over each other.

One belly carried all, true in separate sacs, but still together.

The sacs, she ate, thinking then, that by doing so she would never see them leave, and separately leave, not thinking at her young age then that “That”, would definitely happen, despite her, leaving her with only a teary haze in the eyes, and a tinge of Kohl.

She is left with black halos on her lids and a tearless desert in-between.

She was planning to leave too, to the desert, not telling those dumb humans about it.

She decided to take revenge out on them; humans, she cannot on her kids. Furthermore, she did not want to be traced.

Trackless, odorless, spotless, invisible.

She would shed her fur and wear an earthy brown cloak, to blend in with the desert. She did not want to be found. She’d harbor snakes and scorpions in her hair follicles if need be. She’d be transparent to water; water would seep right through her body, not stopping at any crevice or claw, into the rocks underneath.

She would mate with the scorching yellow rays, fall in love with the dying orange disc of Ra, and wait to be blinded.

She’d fold in, writhe and conform to the dunes, wait to be blown away, ever so gently, layer by layer, until she had become a single granule of sand. May be she, one moment, would land in somedody’s awaiting eye, glaring eye, sad eye, such as the eye of a lonely mare.

She didn’t want to disintegrate into carbon because she hated to be incorporate into anything, not even a diamond.

She’d rather keep her identity as a grain of sand which once was a cat, full with three souls. Each soul had decided to leave, on its own, and be what it wanted to be, her core elected to be a grain of soil.

The hammering stopped.



“You seem burdened my child”

“Divina, mom!”

“What about her?”


Expectant silence.

“Di” “vi” “na”. “My mouth fills and my throat dampens with each syllable of her name.”

Limpy, Ignoring the sudden flash of heartburn that she felt in her chest; “Besides you borrowing Nobakov’s vocabulary, where is the problem?”

“I believe that she believes she is not a cat anymore”

Re-swallowing the bitterness which had quickly consumed her mouth: “May be she is not.”

“A while ago she insisted that we…I look into her eyes when we are…mmm…intimate; she felt she wanted to see my love.”


“So, I had to dig out a hole just below the level where she, so gracefully had laid on her back, stood on my hinds and…and looked into her eyes”

“Was it painful my child?”

“It was beautiful.”

“Uh, Xerxus, I… Is that what you had to do when she got pregnant with the twins?”

“No, that time she wanted to conceive immaculately; we had to do it in-vitro, inseminate her, and she delivered through a cut in her tummy.”

“My child, I tell you this much; I was so happy when I experienced every bit of nature; turning into a woman, having you, all through natural channels. Whats wrong with cats these days!? hadn’t it been for your father being there, I would have slept with any group of street cats. Natural is beautiful. “Staring”!!! I’m not sure, I’ve never experienced it, and had never cared to know“

Limpy pondered, then, “Did she want to see that too? the cutting and what have you?”

“But of course, she insisted on only having her lower body numbed down, and watched the whole thing

A prolonged sigh; “Fine, whatever,  So, what is the problem now?”

“Now she wants to have me put a chastity belt on her”

“Chastity what?!….Forget it son, find someone else, you are a cat, you are entitled to roam, chastity my hind foot.”


“Why Not?”

“I love her”

“Suit your garbage self then”

Limpy walked away, with both ears and tail down.

Xerxus continued watching the rain as it was streaming down the stained window glass.

Nao was watching from afar, enjoying the whole scene, and muffling his giggles.