Lili came and awakened dreams
February 8, 2001
Lili came out of the blue. It burned at first. We hadn't seen each other
in years. A single purple star. Memories poured out of the past in broken
pieces. Our temples were like parchment. Listening.
Her mother and our father were both Bakhtiari full of soft cheese. The
sound of a flute and black-nosed white sheep grazing on the hills of green
grass. Turan and Abol Ghasem were a step away from the land. From the yellow
mountain and rocks under their feet. Nomads sweet beyond mention under
black tents bells long velvet skirts at least seven smoke.
Just moments away when they were beyond the pass wearing a golden stud
on their nose in the slavery of opium. Regularity was imposed by opium
on the passing hours as they sat in circles around fires, lamps and pipes
in an age-old perfection of exquisite poisoning.
Lili came and awakened dreams. She wore a bright yellow scarf tied around
her head and wore a long white cotton dress. She had brought me white cheese,
tender fresh mint, flat bread and black Persian tea with cardimon. Blue
irises were growing on the mountain and white boats sailed on the waters
of Annapolis on the Chesapeake Bay.
I baked an apple pie from "Recipes from a Provencal Kitchen".
A crisp crust, sliced apples covered with thick cream. Lili wrote in her
thank you note "I regret not taking an additional slice of apple pie
home to have as a night snack at 10 pm. The crust, the texture of apples,
the custard filling were superb."
Our breathing was ragged as if from a race. We spoke in English and
Farsi trying to bring together our lives before time ran out, the glass
shattered and left on the ground. We walked across the garden to the gate
still talking , hiding Easter eggs under the pansies.
We knew the image was fading in little blue and white Annapolis dressed
in a gold silk dressing-gown with cigarette holes, stained and burnt by
George Washington. I showed her where to turn on 50 West off of Route 2
separated by the songs of Carmen, Tristan and Isolda.