confess your sins, geisha
among the innocence of cherry buds
just before they blossom
there's joy in your dark side
even tea has many shades
There was Atif, the Egyptian, a Coptic Christian, whose, "am a pharoah," pick-up line only worked when his wallet was full.
And there was the Wolf, from Armenia, slightly older than us at over sixty. If I wasn't the Devil, the Wolf certainly was.
Now and then we'd drive in at speed across the Saudi Arabian desert on days off. Driving 'in' meant driving to the island of Bahrain, from the largest oilfield in the world, on the edge of the Empty Quarter, in the Saudi Arabian desert, where we had been attaked twice by Al Qaeda, but where the Saudis treated us with courtesy and cooperation.
I liked the villages in Bahrain, with those crazy Shias, always fermenting trouble, usually dressed in black, but always friendly to the very few of us who ventured to their small tea houses.
In the evenings we would float first to the Country Club, and the wonderful Bulgarian barmaid, who would pretend she had never met me if my ex-wife was accompanying me, but who otherwise looked after us as brothers.
It was in the Country Club that the Latvian waitress came up to our table. She was gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair, green eyes that spoke of exotic jungles and the Carribean, lips that smiled a full smile that could only hide wicked fun and a body that was art.
"What would you like to drink?" she asked the Wolf.
"It's better you do not speak to him," I said, "his name is Father Alfred, and until yesterday, a highly respected priest, but now excommunicated from the church for his wicked ways. We are so ashamed of him we do not want to hear what he will say to such a decent person as you."
"But..." the Wolf started.
"No!" I said, "not now, Father."
The Wolf put on his most saintly smile and looked up at the waitress, a Latvian woman with innocent eyes. She was playing with her small gold cross set between her impressive breasts, her alluring white blouse fitting just right.
"You must not talk to a priest like that," she said, her accent pure butter.
"Ex-priest, ex-priest," I said, "excommunicated from the church for reasons I do not even dare say."
"Child," the Wolf said, never one not to see an opportunity, " come sit on my lap, let me bless you."
"Pardon?" she said.
"Sit, and I will bless you, I can see you are pure," he said.
"Sit where, Father?" she said.
"Here," he said, patting his lap, as Hasan slapped his forehead and shook silently in laughter.
Dutyfully, and with some penance in her lowered eyes, she did.
Of course, there are different kinds of blessings, of holy symbols, and there was the Wolf: "Oh! Father," said the Latvian waitress with some evident surprise, looking down, "what is that!"
As I said, if I was not the Devil, the Wolf certainly was.
among the innocence of cherry buds
just before they blossom
there's joy in your dark side
even tea has many shades
The problem with sin is it is enticing - as well as the fact that I sincerely feel souls should be corrupted.
And we used to corrupt them, those souls.
There was Hasan, from Sudan. If you know the Sudanese you already know his finer points: the Sudanese always give bear hugs, slapping backs with gusto, never swear, never talk bad about anyone, and move slower than Mexicans in the midday sun.
There was Atif, the Egyptian, a Coptic Christian, whose, "am a pharoah," pick-up line only worked when his wallet was full.
And there was the Wolf, from Armenia, slightly older than us at over sixty. If I wasn't the Devil, the Wolf certainly was.
Now and then we'd drive in at speed across the Saudi Arabian desert on days off. Driving 'in' meant driving to the island of Bahrain, from the largest oilfield in the world, on the edge of the Empty Quarter, in the Saudi Arabian desert, where we had been attaked twice by Al Qaeda, but where the Saudis treated us with courtesy and cooperation.
I liked the villages in Bahrain, with those crazy Shias, always fermenting trouble, usually dressed in black, but always friendly to the very few of us who ventured to their small tea houses.
In the evenings we would float first to the Country Club, and the wonderful Bulgarian barmaid, who would pretend she had never met me if my ex-wife was accompanying me, but who otherwise looked after us as brothers.
It was in the Country Club that the Latvian waitress came up to our table. She was gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair, green eyes that spoke of exotic jungles and the Carribean, lips that smiled a full smile that could only hide wicked fun and a body that was art.
"What would you like to drink?" she asked the Wolf.
"It's better you do not speak to him," I said, "his name is Father Alfred, and until yesterday, a highly respected priest, but now excommunicated from the church for his wicked ways. We are so ashamed of him we do not want to hear what he will say to such a decent person as you."
"But..." the Wolf started.
"No!" I said, "not now, Father."
The Wolf put on his most saintly smile and looked up at the waitress, a Latvian woman with innocent eyes. She was playing with her small gold cross set between her impressive breasts, her alluring white blouse fitting just right.
"You must not talk to a priest like that," she said, her accent pure butter.
"Ex-priest, ex-priest," I said, "excommunicated from the church for reasons I do not even dare say."
"Child," the Wolf said, never one not to see an opportunity, " come sit on my lap, let me bless you."
"Pardon?" she said.
"Sit, and I will bless you, I can see you are pure," he said.
"Sit where, Father?" she said.
"Here," he said, patting his lap, as Hasan slapped his forehead and shook silently in laughter.
Dutyfully, and with some penance in her lowered eyes, she did.
Of course, there are different kinds of blessings, of holy symbols, and there was the Wolf: "Oh! Father," said the Latvian waitress with some evident surprise, looking down, "what is that!"
As I said, if I was not the Devil, the Wolf certainly was.
pure evil has it's charm
come meet us in the desert sand
surely you'll be seduced?
come meet us in the desert sand
surely you'll be seduced?
