My one true teacher, lover, teacher, and spiritual conduit Vivi cautioned me about broken spirits like Polly. Vivi and I couldn’t see each other’s directions; we were too much alike.
When we separated, though, she foresaw a mark on me. A wound to my heart.
“Vivi, ease up. My heart’s massive big.”
That’s why she linked with me. My sprightliness and overview and large pure heart.
But obviously I belong here, with Brian and Carla and Angelina. Saw that first, followed by many fine directions streaming forward.
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When I had to leave Kingston or Don Rufus would kill me, Vivi was sad and worried. While sneaking me onto the plane and sending me home, because Don Rufus had his crew after me, she warned me to be on guard against a particular furious person. Somebody whose inner self flew in and out, leaving a rampaging beast. She held mi face in her magical hands and looked deep into my eyes. A covetous killer, she said, would make trouble for me here.
An’ I said she mustn’t fuss so. This country is full of evil hypocrites and craven liars, but there’s scant magic her, good or bad. People believe in logic. Besides, I vowed to concentrate, and meditate. Because now that we were breaking up, Vivi said she could almost see me growing into fullment as a mystic.
Just ’cause Polly cuts eyes at me doesn’t mean she’s gonna stab me to death. But like Brian said, it’s strange when someone dislikes me for no reason. Almost everyone loves me for no reason. The opposite of Polly.
Right away she’s vexed because Angelina has offered me Polly’s angry cabin—her place for when she gets desperate and mad.
So I told Polly,“There’s no rush. Brian and Carla aren’t shoving me out. I don’t need to move in on your territory. An’ I won’t unless you’re ready for that, Polly.”
She cooled off, hearing that. And nodded vehemently when I said Polly had a right to rest wherever she likes. She was here first. We were checking the marijuana shed and Angelina suggested Polly go inside and sort the laundry. See if the paying guests needed new sheets.
When she passed me, I slipped her a pouch of ganja and she tugged on my sleeve, indicating I follow her up the steps.
“Thank you, Trevor,” she whispered even though Angelina remained in the shed with her cuttings. “But please, don’t tell Angelina. Good name for her by the way. Makes her happy. But if she knew you gave me this…” Polly head swung so that her hair fanned out. “Angelina doesn’t trust me with weed.”
“If you want, Polly, I’ll meet you in awhile and we can smoke together.”
“Don’t bother. I like getting high alone. Just promise me you won’t tell Angelina.”
I vowed. But Polly still doesn’t like me. Maybe because it’s rare when people don’t like me—especially women—I’m never fooled by a sham of friendliness. At the same time, it’s clear I have nothing to fear with Polly. You see that so? And if I keep watch over her and supply her with good ganja, she’ll probably like me as well as anyone. Except of course, Angelina.
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