Miraba el espejo retrovisor, totalmente paranoica, desde el asiento trasero. En algún lugar de la ciudad Marcos me esperaba, completamente empepado, ¿o era parte del sueño?
Salí de la ducha, corrí hasta la ventana. Cuando estaba por tirarme, vi mi reflejo desnudo en el edificio de enfrente. Se veía mi cuerpo distorsionado a lo lejos, asustado. Mi expresión me era totalmente ajena, los ojos desorbitados. ¿Qué estoy haciendo?
Marcos entraba al café, buscaba imágenes, perdido, en el techo. Quiero correr. Así como había entrado, salió trotando. Mientras, paso tras paso, se perdía en el apagado y lejano sonido que devolvía la tierra después de cada impacto, con un desfasaje considerable entre imagen y sonido. Se sacó la remera y la tiró al piso. Se sacó el arito de la ceja y se lo guardó en un bolsillo. Siguió corriendo.
A las cuatro menos cinco estaba en la plaza. Después de cinco minutos vi pasar el auto violeta, que me llevaría a un lugar a donde, por algún motivo, tenía que ir. No recordaba por qué ni a dónde, pero me daba vergüenza admitirlo, o quizá era un asunto de seguridad tan confidencial que ni yo misma me permitía recordar mi próximo paradero. No confío en nadie.
Marcos estaba dormido atrás de una planta. A cinco metros suyo dos chicas tomaban mates y de vez en cuando lo miraban para comprobar si respiraba. Con los brazos y piernas totalmente extendidos, se desplegaba por el suelo como una estrella brillante. En su mente pasaban más cosas por minuto que en la ciudad entera en una hora. Levantate, tenés que encontrarla.
El espejo retrovisor enmarcaba siniestramente el par de ojos más violento que me había mirado. ¿Quién era ella? Se sentía como una madre. Lo insólito es que veía su espalda moverse, su nuca girar, mirar hacia los costados, con una actitud relajada. Pero el espejo mostraba dos ojos fijos clavados, que no se movían ni un milímetro, como un recuerdo impreso del eterno acechar de los enemigos encubiertos. Su mano se acercó lentamente a la guantera...
Trepado como un simio a las torres de la iglesia, saltaba de nervadura en nervadura, de cornisa en cornisa; divisaba la lejanía como un águila. Las casas daban vueltas, los edificios crecían y se achicaban. ¿Dónde estás? En una visión apocalíptica pudo prever un futuro sin humanos, donde las ruinas de la iglesia quedaban sepultadas bajo las eternas capas de materia fecal extraterrestre.
La mano se acercaba lentamente a la guantera, en un gesto terminal. Mi respiración, junto al latido de mi corazón, se detuvo por completo. Pensé en saltar del auto en movimiento, pero afuera sólo se veían ríos de animales de granja, con caudales tan potentes que podrían haberme arrastrado hasta el fin del tablero, causando mi última y final perdición. Abrió la guantera, aún clavándome la mirada. Sacó un lápiz labial. Pude volver a respirar.
Trepado a una oveja, veía a unos veinte metros el auto violeta, naranja, amarillo... No paraba de cambiar de color. Saltó para caer sobre un pato mutante que volaba al ras de la temblorosa superficie de bovinos. Unos segundos después la vio, dentro del vehículo. En el asiento delantero estaba la muerte, con un lápiz labial rojo en la mano.
La mano huesuda sostenía el pintalabios con espíritu real. Lo acercó lentamente al espejo retrovisor, donde escribió con letra de maestra de primer grado. "Fuck you", decía la inscripción.
Marcos volaba en su pato cada vez más cerca del coche. Finalmente, su mano temblorosa y tentacular pudo alcanzar la puerta trasera.
La muerte empezó a reír, mientras terminaba de redactar su desesperanzador mensaje carmín. Escuché un ruido a mi lado. ¡Es él! Abría la puerta lentamente.
Abría la puerta lentamente. Lo vio y sonrió. Ya estoy mejor.
Fuck you too, muerte. Yo me voy en pato, vos te quedás acá.
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Death and lipstick
I was staring at the rearview mirror, totally paranoic, from the back seat of the car. Somewhere in the city, Marcos was waiting for me, full of LSD, or it was all part of the dream?
I went out of the shower and ran towards the window. When I was about to jump, I saw my naked reflection in the building across the street. I could see my frightened and distorted body in the distance. The look on my face was totally alien, my eyeballs were exorbitant. What am I doing?
Marcos was entering the coffee shop, lost, looking for images on the roof. I want to run. As well as he came in, he went out, running. In the meantime, step after step, he got lost in the dull and distant beats coming out of the earth after every impact, with a meaningful phase shift between image and sound. He took his shirt off, threw it to the ground. He took the piercing out of his eyebrow and put it into his pocket. He kept on running.
It was five to five when I was in the park. After exactly five minutes, I saw the purple car that would take me somewhere that, for some reason, I had to go to. I didn't remember why, or where, but I was embarassed to admit it... Or maybe it was such a confidential business that I couldn't even allow myself to remember it. I trust no one.
Marcos was asleep behind a bush. Five meters from him, there were two girls having a picnic and, from once in a while, they checked if he was still breathing. With his arms and legs totally spread, he seemed a shiny star. Inside his mind, there were more things happening in a minute than in the entire city in an hour. Get up, you have to go find her.
The rearview mirror sinisterly framed the most violent eyes I had ever looked at. Who was her? She felt like a mother. The most unusual thing about it was that I could see her back moving, her neck turning, looking both sides, with a relaxed attitude. But the mirror showed two staring eyes that wouldn't move a milimeter, like a printed memory of the eternal watching of the undercover enemies. Her hand slowly approached the glove box...
Climbing like a monkey the church towers, he jump from rib to rib, from cornice to cornice; descrying in the distance like an eagle. The houses were jumping around, the buildings grew bigger and smaller. Where are you? In an apocalyptic vision he could foresee a future without humans, where the ruins of the church were buried under eternal layers of extraterrestrial feces.
The hand was slowly approaching the glove box, in a terminal gesture. My breathing, along with the beating of my heart, stopped. I thought of jumping out of the moving car, but outside you could only see farm animal rivers, with flows so powerfull that they could have dragged me to the end of the board, causing my last and final doom. She opened the glove box, still staring at me. She took a lipstick out. I could breath again.
Climbing onto a sheep, he could see, twenty meters away, the purple car, the orange car, the yellow car...... It kept on changing colours. He jumped on a mutant duck that was flying over the shaky surface of cattle. A few seconds later he saw her, inside the vehicle. In the front seat was Death, with a lipstick in her hand.
The bony hand held the lipstick with royal spirit. She slowly approached it to the rearview mirror, where she wrote with first grade teacher handwriting. "Fuck you", said the message.
Marcos was flying in his duck, closer and closer to the car. Finally, his shaky and tentacular hand could reach the back door.
Death started to laugh, while she finished to write her red hopeless message. I heard a noise by my side. It is him! He was slowly opening the door.
He was slowly opening the door. She saw him and smiled. I feel better now.
Fuck you too, Death. I leave, riding a duck, you stay here.
I was staring at the rearview mirror, totally paranoic, from the back seat of the car. Somewhere in the city, Marcos was waiting for me, full of LSD, or it was all part of the dream?
I went out of the shower and ran towards the window. When I was about to jump, I saw my naked reflection in the building across the street. I could see my frightened and distorted body in the distance. The look on my face was totally alien, my eyeballs were exorbitant. What am I doing?
Marcos was entering the coffee shop, lost, looking for images on the roof. I want to run. As well as he came in, he went out, running. In the meantime, step after step, he got lost in the dull and distant beats coming out of the earth after every impact, with a meaningful phase shift between image and sound. He took his shirt off, threw it to the ground. He took the piercing out of his eyebrow and put it into his pocket. He kept on running.
It was five to five when I was in the park. After exactly five minutes, I saw the purple car that would take me somewhere that, for some reason, I had to go to. I didn't remember why, or where, but I was embarassed to admit it... Or maybe it was such a confidential business that I couldn't even allow myself to remember it. I trust no one.
Marcos was asleep behind a bush. Five meters from him, there were two girls having a picnic and, from once in a while, they checked if he was still breathing. With his arms and legs totally spread, he seemed a shiny star. Inside his mind, there were more things happening in a minute than in the entire city in an hour. Get up, you have to go find her.
The rearview mirror sinisterly framed the most violent eyes I had ever looked at. Who was her? She felt like a mother. The most unusual thing about it was that I could see her back moving, her neck turning, looking both sides, with a relaxed attitude. But the mirror showed two staring eyes that wouldn't move a milimeter, like a printed memory of the eternal watching of the undercover enemies. Her hand slowly approached the glove box...
Climbing like a monkey the church towers, he jump from rib to rib, from cornice to cornice; descrying in the distance like an eagle. The houses were jumping around, the buildings grew bigger and smaller. Where are you? In an apocalyptic vision he could foresee a future without humans, where the ruins of the church were buried under eternal layers of extraterrestrial feces.
The hand was slowly approaching the glove box, in a terminal gesture. My breathing, along with the beating of my heart, stopped. I thought of jumping out of the moving car, but outside you could only see farm animal rivers, with flows so powerfull that they could have dragged me to the end of the board, causing my last and final doom. She opened the glove box, still staring at me. She took a lipstick out. I could breath again.
Climbing onto a sheep, he could see, twenty meters away, the purple car, the orange car, the yellow car...... It kept on changing colours. He jumped on a mutant duck that was flying over the shaky surface of cattle. A few seconds later he saw her, inside the vehicle. In the front seat was Death, with a lipstick in her hand.
The bony hand held the lipstick with royal spirit. She slowly approached it to the rearview mirror, where she wrote with first grade teacher handwriting. "Fuck you", said the message.
Marcos was flying in his duck, closer and closer to the car. Finally, his shaky and tentacular hand could reach the back door.
Death started to laugh, while she finished to write her red hopeless message. I heard a noise by my side. It is him! He was slowly opening the door.
He was slowly opening the door. She saw him and smiled. I feel better now.
Fuck you too, Death. I leave, riding a duck, you stay here.
