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 Kissed in ValenciaHe swirled his silk cape and thrust his sword in the bull's jugular crying CARMEN ! By Kristopher Kolumbus December 6, 2002 The Iranian It was raining in Valencia. Gray clouds smuggled in a mist of white pigons circling thousands of years over a blue-silver tiled dome drizzling on the mediterranean. The sea staring at the tablecloth of paellas with arroz negro, squid, mussles, prawns, squid ink, peas, sweet peppers and artichoke hearts brutal on the ancient, narrow Roman road of CARRER DELS CAVALLERS going east and west with a very large glass of champagne. I was hoping Omar would be there, unlace his boots, stop fussing for our wedding in dress whites, gold braid on his sleeve, holding a sabre. Lighting candles for Roman ghosts 39 BC marching into the city for a drink: Rioja 1987 Baron De Ley.Omar had a square Hitler-like moustache and spoke Spanish. We walked to the mosque that was now only one crumbling wall of bricks, prayed and had a glass of Pouilly-Fume. During his mother's pregnancy his father died. He leaned over and looked at me. My mother tried to commit suicde and to have an abortion. After such traumatic plastic bowl the refrigerator door opened on blue-black ink of small, innocent pickled entails of sea squirt with the light on a bottle of Pol Roger. He laid his knuckles across his crotch. A sign of paranoia and readiness to use violence to attend a Turkish strip joint before the nuptial. The malignant, narcisstic King Neptune in a rite of passage lay in the fountain filled with Valencia orange juice surrounded by eight nude maidens from the TURIA RIVER covered with thick cut orange marmalade pouring orange juice out of clay jugs into the fountain. He quit smoking pot on the mountain and ate oysters. A mirror-image of moslem orange blossoms in the early morning washed away under violet umbrellas stones stained the color of Spanish tea wrapped in a red silk shawl vanished behind a not-so-white moslem Turk next to a black-robed monk who slipped into the cathedral with Dom Perignon. A dog spewed out pimples on an ogre's belly up the cathedral wall chasing white pigons with pink feet when King Neptune was circumcised in the PLAZA DELA VIRGIN drinking Crystal from a Venitian flute with a stem entwined with a gold fish. His mother's failure to nuture him in Nishapur made him sink in despair under the orange trees surrounding the PLAZA DE LA TOROS clashing with his compensatoey dream of glory as he swirled his silk cape and thrust his sword in the bull's jugular crying CARMEN ! The wounded self ate whiskey flavored egg-yolk tart with traditional chocolate ice cream in a delicious base of dark melted chocolate with a cup of Cafe Borgia - coffee, cream, cocoa and chocolate in PLACERES ARTESANOS, VALOR, suffering.  Omar's
family owned a rice shop. He bowed lightly and said to EL CID in 1094 please enjoy
yourself in Valencia as the Caliphate of Cordoba defeated, sailed to Casablanca.
A bridge too far away to pee under leaving a Christian cross behind the church wall
filled with naranja trees. A short walk down to PLAZA DE CARMEN we found a commemorative marble plaque engraved in old Spanish script ................EL NOVIEMBRE 2002 ...........................AQUI ................MUY BIEN FUCKED I planted several small tricolor flags in a selection of dog turds and left with Bluebeard for my wedding in Valencia. ................Valencia - $%&=":?- Espana
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