Gypsy Girl

Cool streets dampen a thin layer of snow; this land is unfamiliar for our cold. Caravan of horses and plump donkeys yields a hexagon garnishing bright rainbows transports umbilical earthly folklore except for one. I walk my gray matter; an extraordinary brash tone echoes from the deep black woods.

"What of black magic? I am blacker than the magic! I could be the magic! Do you despise me for the color or do you despise me for the pleasure?"

The tiger stops his pace; my decision is prompted by inert heroism flipping the mirror. Silence extends pounding peeps from headless chickens to intense gasps of terror. Her laughter is a tremendous force of sonar causing me momentary deafness; she knows I am listening. Worry bellies me, I bow to the petrified stump nearby; fear strikes me, the reality of losing my wife. A resistant wild cat hisses a brazen tongue, I instinctively hiss back. I accept her territorial claws for stumbling upon her den of illegitimate cubs. Odin is with me, my charismatically handsome companion of a husky wolf; she backs away cautiously. Cats are not fond of me lest they are fond of me as a fellow cat.

Unified attentive animal senses gathers the magnetic scent of sandalwood accentuated by Spanish virgin olive oil. My Nordic legend expresses his fangs as I do the same; we find ourselves riding a barreling wagon over a forgotten bridge. A box explodes into clowns; Odin brings me a roundly red nose.

"Shall I wear it?"

He tilts his head and winks his right eye; he guides me to the incense. Laying upon a heft of soft hay is a beautiful woman, her attire is black except for a silken tie dye scarf; red, orange, green, blue, yellow, magenta. Four marijuana buds attach to her chest; I collect one without a touch, tad of THC arousal, she speaks a deeply handsome voice.

"Do you like?"

Odin points his blazing silver diamonds in a blaze; tucked inside my garter belt is a mirror. I see a face redder than my nose; her sapphire globes encounter me.

"May I honk your nose...."

"May I carry you across the bridge?"

"Only if I can honk your nose."

"Okay....."

Her body is a bundle of peacock feathers flaying exposition; odd delight is a blackened tea gypsy squeezing my ballooned profile extension.

"What does your nose look like?"

"Someday you will see but for now this is my disguise."

"Why do you wear a disguise?"

"I am carrying a woman who is not my wife."

"What if I was your wife?"

"I would carry you all the time."

"Are you married?"

"Yes I am....."

"You sound unsure...."

"It could be a dream."

"This is not a dream."

"Maybe so....."

"If you were not married....."

"I would want to marry you......."

I place her upon a bed inside a humble wagon.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"If you wish; you will choose whether or not."

"Only if I can see your nose."

Odin barks and pushes me aside; he desires a kiss from the fair maiden of gypsy rainbows. She runs her nude skittle nail polish fingers through his thick fluff of icy bristles; he nuzzles her with his pink nose.

"Well if your nose is anything like his then I will be pleased."

"If my nose was his I would be pleased as well."

"If I like your nose I will bear your children."

"That is if you choose to see me again."

"Where is your wife? I would like to meet her and take her away on a journey; without you of course....."

"I am lost without her but for now she is at an inn by the windmill."

"If you ever lose her I will bring you back."

"That is if I survive without her."

"I need you to live so that I may be with our children."

"How do you propose we do that?"

"I'm sure your wife can spare me some of your bravery. What is your name so that I may call you when you are lost?"

"Leo....."

Odin knocks me over, my chin lands upon her shoulder; my mane tickles her delicateness, the spirals meet her fingers. She gives me a kiss.

"Careful the wolf becomes jealous...."

"Is your wife a wolf?"

The wagon pulls away; she sleeps the light of day.