Luong-by the late ganesh

[Central Scrutinizer]

All,

 

I have a few stories by a guy who went by the name ganesh, and a couple other names, who passed on a while ago. I thought his writing was wonderful, and am putting a couple of his stories here for the enjoyment of all those who have never read his stuff. Enjoy.

 

Cent

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Luong

 

 

Sunday, April 8, 2001

 

 

 

I disembark, down the steps and into the wall of

heat coming off the tarmac. It?s a tiny airfield, such

as you would find outside a small American community

with a few weekend flyers and a sky-diving school. But

there are the usual Indochinese airfield mortar-proof

hangars, futuristic concrete arcs to foil high

trajectory portable artillery, legacy of my war.

 

In the huddle of well-wishers and drivers holding

signs, Luong stands out. She sees me and flashes me

that pure smile, and she makes a little hop, and claps

her hands, begins to trot toward me.

 

Luong reaches me and we smooch. Some tightness in my

spine loosens under the force of her hug. Diem takes

my gear and carries it to a waiting Cariban.

 

I stretch out and smile, letting Luong massage my

neck and tell me the news in a low voice. Her Auntie

is on the way to America, an Orderly Departure

passenger en route to The Gulf shore of Louisiana,

there to dwell in peace among shrimp fishing folk,

prosperous relatives, in a mostly Cao Dai community

like her home in Tay Ninh.

 

She has a new short haircut, like a Beatles cut but

thick and with jet black and crazy reddish and blue

highlights. Her eyes are bright and mischievous, alert

always to the possibility of events which I could

never envision. She runs her small hand down my back

and gives my ass a little squeeze.

 

Suddenly I want very much to be in the room we will

share. I want to bang my baby and to bang that gong.

In a few minutes we are settled in this charming inn,

a former French villa with enormous rooms and

unobtrusive staff, and I do both. We are both naked

within seconds.

 

She?s so sexuous and sweet, primal hunger saying in

her heat, Come to me, and in her heart she hears my

heat saying Go to her, She?s the sea, absolute

surrender and unconditional gift, and in the big soft

bed I glide her to successive crying peaks, like a

Venetian gondoleer warmhearted romantic, servant of

Aphrodite Deva Venus, precious adored wicca pearl of

eastern deeps, a pearl mine, now mine.

 

We fall asleep after watching , with sour stoned

amusement, a drama about The American War on the

Vietnamese cable channel. We awaken afer midnight,

order a plate of fruits and cheeses, Otard brandy for

my continental darling, cold melon tea for me. We

smoke six pipes apiece, she watching me over the

mouthpiece of the ancient pipe as she knows I love for

her to do, the way her eyes go deep and soft and

warmly distant

 

In the jungle dawn, huge Asian cuckoos call, scatbird

in the bamboo, that coltrane loop the loop verging,

bending a blues figure, signals another runaway dawn.

Luong is awake and listening to the radio news from

Phnom Penh, giggling as she translates: two dragons

were sighted fighting in the sunset sky, a dusk duel,

and a week later a girl was born with an enormous

scaly birthmark. Sky dragons, magic turtles in the

River Sap. I reach for her and she smiles up at me.

And she takes me, my own riverchild, as the patriarch

of looney songbirds, commissar Mekong cuckoo blows the

final notes of his set.

 

ganesh

 

 

 

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[MrX]

exquisite handicraft....more please

[Central Scrutinizer]

Okay Romp. Just for you.

 

Cent

[MrX]

Cheers...Buy you a beer in Surin one day mate!

[Encore]

I echo that. More please , Cent.

 

Beer in surin, yes, one day i'll make it there, until then I have to be content with occasionally enjoying the presence of Surin's ambassadors in SC.