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Water is dancing, the air breathing, and the sun sweating. The rich are on the water with their sails wide open like the legs of a hooker trying to pay rent. The poor sit on the sidewalk asking tourists for money. Most turn away and avoid eye contact.

Women in spandex pants and tight tank tops plugged into their IPOD, exercise around the bay. The music that’s fueling them is probably the overplayed noise we suffer thru when heard on the radio. They try so hard to contain their breasts, but with every jog comes a bounce, and my eyes don’t resist. Seems they do this every afternoon to stay so beautiful, god forbid they have to depend on their personalities to succeed in life. Men smothered in muscles jog shirtless for eyes to see. And of course there are those who long for better looks and healthier physiques heaving and panting as they jog. Trying so hard to burn the calories that they cheated on earlier at work cause a coworker brought cake in today.

Bicycles swoosh by, Pedi-cabs screaming music prey on the next tourist, boats polluting the water press their horns. Above me, pigeons swarm around discarded food like sharks do around bloody wounds.

An exiled musician plays the blues, Chicken Shack’s, “I rather go blind.”  Anyone passing by should stop and listen to this man play his demons away. His talent should fill arenas, but that genre is not appreciated anymore. Ears have now been molested by pop beats, repeated choruses, and childish lyrics. His chords strike the very depths of my ears, while his singing transfers his turmoil to me. Lovers walk by holding one another as their eyes lock on the now setting sun.

Behind us, buildings look down on the bay. The county building gives a hypocritical stare. It stands out more than the others. Placed on the chest of the building is, “The noblest motive is the public good,” in big BOLD letters, like many religious followers, if only they practiced what they preached.  It should say, “The noblest motive is monetary gain” because that is what is truly occurring in our city. Debt is piled on the people as the corporate shoe presses the money stack down on them. They suffocate, their bones shatter, their mind squeezed out their ears, mouth, and nose.

Boats begin to dock on the bay, tired workers crawl into the cars hoping to erase their day at home. Tourist shops shut their doors in fulfillment after a profitable day from marked up prices. Joggers engrossed in brackish sweat stop at their cars to refill the fluids lost. Tourists wave down taxi cabs to no avail. Sidewalk becomes lonely and cold — but in many places — covered with blankets of homelessness.

Sails down, rich up to their lofts. The blues musician takes his hat sprinkled with an unimpressive amount of money and wanders off to the next city with amateur ears. Lovers drugged on pheromones leave in search of a secluded place to have sex since parents are home.

As for me, I put my pen down and my skin back on.

***Thank you for taking the time to read my work. If you enjoy what you read; please share, like, and comment. All of these details help me drastically and will allow me to write more often. Thank you for your support!***

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4 thoughts on “The Naked Soul

  1. What a beautiful piece. I truly love this — it’s probably one of my favorite of all your great writings! And your soul is always naked, by the way! It’s who you are!

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