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I hear the bus coming

He was born under a different star

March 18, 2003
The Iranian

Wearing a bright-red jumpsuit, Hilfiger skullcap and wraparound shade, Khayyam was a brutal and confrontational bus driver in Calpe where his past was another country.

His Spanish was stupid, so he substituted bizarre patois from British, West Indian and 72nd street, New York, 10021 with a touch of Boutros Boutros-Ghali singing Tu Solo Tu.

Suffused with lust, Omar engaged in sexual intercourse with the window cleaner, Firdowsi. Such overwhelming evidence was enough to kill his wife who threw the Rubiyat out the window in Naishapur where each page of poetry became a rose for Valentine's day ripping through the spring blossoms of the almond trees - Norooz - Norooz - Aziz.

The first to lead the tanks in and the first to get killed, he invariably, unforgivably provoked Spanish chicks to roost on the bus on acid making then fly.

The worst effect of Ectasy was that it made them actually like masturbating looking out the dirty window at the sea.

Romeo (Khayyam, alias Don Juan) goodby winter, kiss me spring, could hear the bus coming. He was yelling at me to get off. No longer calm, he burned effigies of me but in truth I wasn't listening. I was on fire, ablaze with love learning to speak through a mouth without lips.

To fall in love with Khayyam in Calpe was a wanksta of the highest order premiered on the Abol Ghassem da Firdowsi show on Espana Natioal Radio. Everyone thought he was the sound guy. He used a thumpmoto to simulate a sexual act. Baisically he got mashed and one thing led to another in a massively long limo. He talking about his generally greatest * * * * in the world buttressed by an enviable modesty. He fucked like a prince. He had more experience boning than any man in Calpe.

And there is another thing. He was alone, friendless, countryless, acting capriciously, instinctively, stumped for words, no habla Espanol, a cheating bus driver (Romeo) and a cunning Spanish bastard.

He was born under a different star in Nishapur. Waving his mighty willow at me at the train station when the sky was turning purple. I let go of my curious lemon wedgie and he made sure I would swing from a tree before he left me and drove off into the Spanish night in the bus.

I didn't want him to think I was only a shit on the bus. Now he thinks I am just shit.

Becoming a creative conflict that turns a grain of sand in an oyster into a pearl.

CALPE - &%$·"=? - ESPANA

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