Cowboy from the south.
Slim Shady, his all time best…he’d spit through the deep layered rap like he’d take it from Marshall and win the next grammy’s King of pop. The old soul in him threatened to be so young considering the massive memory capacity he had for all Billy Ocean’s best, and couldn’t miss a word from Charley Pride’s I’m so afraid of losing you. You’d wonder if he stole the time travel box from Umbrella Academy’s number 5, to pop in and out of the 70’s and 80’s music world.
He’d take her through Alexander the Great’s mysterious death and the Welsh valley untold secrects, while fixing a magical dinner. In his suprisingly tiny but spaceously spiced kitchen, with no cook books or recipes on the pantry, but a master chef in no apron with an imaginary chef’s hat, which he keeps adjusting just to identify with Emeril Lagasse. Pretty and perfect dishes he’d present to her, and for a moment she’d second guess if Wolfgang puck’s Pork Schnitzel is ever the most visually incredible dish. His recipes knitted with lots of skills and a yearn for perfection, a coalesce of Ramsey & Gale’s signature touch.
He’d shoo her to sit back, relax her Marlene’s pairs. Every time she’d try to fix everything, and just enjoy watching him man-handle chores and keeping her off ennui. A man of full hands. Her heart would bloom everytime he’d do a Michael-Jacko’s signature showstopper moonwalk on Bruno Mars’s uptown-funk, and blame James Brown for inventing it. She could stare blindly, for his actions hypnotic and her cardiac organ would threaten to halt. Everything about him anaesthetic. A perfect human, she’d think.
Striking a Rango pose, one you’d easily confuse for voguing. A toothpick cutely sticking out his Beans‘ twisted mouth. A clowny gaze sending off waves of enormous charisma.
-“I’m Rango from the west…and very responsible for them Jenkins brothers…anything…, at your service m’lady“. He’d say with a bow. She’d laugh over and over and make him do it again, for his charm addictive and inevitable. He’d play Jake the rattle snake and say…
-“I’m gonna blow so many holes in you, your guts’ll be leaking lead”...everytime he wanted to make her feel spooky.
–“Your highness, soup is ready. How would you like it served to you?
” -“Warm, with a little mint garnish.
” -“As you wish m’lady”.
He’d wait for her approval, bow and flash her a goofy smile alongside a cheesy wink upon her satisfaction. She’d choke on her soup in pretence, just so he’d rush back with a glass of water, terror prints across his symmetric face and a warm hand to rub her back. Gotcha!
On warm cloudy evening, he’d show her the magic of country-side. Long walks through daisy fields, fetching fresh lavender for her curious nose. Chasing after her through the tall bermuda grass, playing Tiger Lily the Indian princess. He’d let her rest her feet in the swamp …and sometimes allow her swim with the swans for she’s a royal bristol cove mermaid after a long walk of valleys, plains and hills, site viewing. Oh! the big house like-Boabab trees, which stole her sight…and the tall-tall coconut trees that seemed to break on their straining full breasts. They’d ride back home through an ancient southern folklore he’d narrate with much enthusiasm.
His ideologies colonized her attention, stirring curiosity. She had alot to ask, and more to find out. He gave answers and theories which haunted her. Pushing her urge of finding out on edges. He gifted her books to feed her lust for knowledge. His philosophy threatened an orgasm in her. He stole her mind, occupied her thinking, her head clouded.. Is it just another one of Peter pan’s neverland stories?
Things she wished for. Only existed in a faraway land where her home been. where she’d chase after butterflies, build sand castles where sea waves wouldn’t sweep on. Pick tulips in Lady Aurora’s garden. Where brownies, elfs, fairies and queen Clarion are her trusted friends. A lost boy she was, always playing in the woods with peter pan, Tinkerbell and Wendy darling and on the run from captain hook and smee. Obliged to protect their territory from Maleficent the dark queen.
And one day, when she finally gathered up her cluttered brains. When the cowboy from south is all she wanted. When she soberly gave up her forever home. When She never wanted to leave the south and never wait for shadow man for a safe passage beyond the horizon. When she thought she’d trust a creature as dangerous as human with the most hunted treasure she had, a ruby heart. When she wanted to go hunting for wild berries and bird-watch in the enchanting forest of the south, and saddle horses down the hay fields into the woods, and be a Cowboy’s sidekick. When she wanted to explore, navigate and sail in the waters of the south. when she was ready to burn bridges. When she was ready… sailing towards her wishes, she hit an iceberg, her boat capsized…a lost soul in the heart of a black cold sea. The cowboy from the South was gone, long gone to a direction she couldn’t trace.
“The real world is dangerous for a fairy princess” scribbled on the wet sandy seashore along a single blue rose and a tagged note “I hope I don’t make you feel some type a way… “. Is all she woke up to. With frozen tears, she clutched onto her shattered numb Ruby heart…and Her Highness took a conestoga wagon across the prairie into the sunset. It was just another fantasy.