joguinhos

Não, meu bem.
Não uso salto alto. Não tenho um gato com focinho cor de rosa. Não tenho paciência para colar masculinidades durante longas e frias madrugadas.
(Afasto uma mecha teimosa de cabelo, mordisco os lábios.)

Você me encara da janela de seu quinto andar enquanto passeio por sua calçada – ciente de que estou sendo observada, mas orgulhosa o suficiente para não tirar meus olhos das unhas que me escapam das sandálias (preciso cortá-las, preciso cortá-lo). Você mija no muro da esquina às 3 da manhã, depois de embebedar-se o bastante para perder a consciência de sua fragilidade. Porém, não deixa de estar sóbrio: daqui, querida, você não passa. Uns tipos o encaram, você dá de ombros (não quero saber de sua autossuficiência).

Meus pesadelos estão povoados daquelas fotos horrendas de gatos com focinhos cor de rosa que você colou na parede de sua sala. “Adote-me”, brincava. “Adote-me”, soluçava. “Adote-me”, implorava, joelhos no chão, meias e shorts, barba desfeita, cabelos sem sentido, olhos estupidamente vermelhos. “Ame-me”, eu lhe disse apenas uma vez: e sem voz. Meus sonhos estão povoados daquelas rosas com cujas pétalas você um dia perfumou minha pele nua sobre seu lençol branco. “Toque-me”, eu lhe tocava. “Toque-me”, e você me dedilhava. “Não”, nos dissemos, quase em uníssono. E você dissolvido, alquebrado, estendido no sofá com a janela aberta e um vento gelado.

Não, meu bem.
Não uso salto alto. Não tenho um gato com focinho cor de rosa. Não tenho paciência para colar masculinidades durante longas e frias madrugadas.
(Afasto uma lágrima teimosa, mordo os lábios furiosamente.)

O vento levou todas as folhas, todas as pétalas, todas as peças.
A noite guarda a ressaca daquele dia.
De outro, de outra.

Gaze

He laughed.
— Sorry. You’re saying…
Hands, arms, lips, eyes: her sources of continuous messages. Everything so intense, for sure. Everything so confused. She was that kind of superlative girl.
— Never mind.
She’d already drunk three or four glasses of wine. He kept strongly his receipt: one bottle of water for every dose of alcohol. This was his way to keep his sobriety. Oh, his sobriety… Who cares about being sober? His inner universe was already a constant post-tsunami world, full of hurricanes of sensations and very fast brainstormings. But he never got lost in himself: it was amazing how he was able to manage the clues from himself even without thinking so much about, just listening to that whispered music that came from his soul. By the way, he carried a certain old-fashioned purity conjugated with an accurate feeling for capturing others’ pieces of soul. Emotional intelligence, right?
— For God’s sake!
— What?
— You don’t pay attention to me, do you?
— Sorry. You’re saying…
Her lips were very red at that moment. They seemed to shine – and this, besides distracting him, started to disturb him. He couldn't understand properly what she was saying, the real subjects of that bizarre conversation. He was surrounded by noise while she was just gleaming: from her lips to her eyes. Even the (fifth?) glass on your hands shined.
— Never mind.
— Please, repeat…
She looked at him with tenderness, not sure if she should keep talking and talking, inventing keys to try to get into his world. More than catching his attention, she seemed to be interested in touching his heart somehow. A mere caprice? No, she didn’t feel like that, but recognized that could be almost impossible. An ocean. A decade. Bottles of water and wine. Words. Idioms. Phrasal verbs and jokes. A table. Friends, friends, many people. All of that had become into a huge wall between them. Actually she started to feel tired. Emotional tiredness?
— Sorry.
— ?
— It’s time for me to go.
— Because of something I said?
(He meant: “something I didn’t say”).
— Perhaps because of something I did.
(She meant: “something I didn’t do”).

It’ll take time for both to understand what was going on over there more than that simple wordplay. Maybe it’ll be late when they realize that, maybe it won’t. Anyway, both remember how they gazed at each other that night. And how it was magic.