Wednesday, March 28, 2012

The Martian Cowboys Will Be Back, but Jonathon ben Macabi speaks now

I find nights such as this to be excruciatingly beautiful. The air has a certain fresh, damp chill. And the earth smells moist and fecund. I walk for hours on end, looking and smelling and touching and smiling. Tonight is not a 'feeding' night. Oh, you will know when that happens. The moon is new. The sky is dark. And the aroma of human flesh intoxicates me as the hookah's of Old al Andaluz never did.

We left the house in Chestnut Hill, Sarah and I, for more fitting digs deep within the rabbit warrens of Queen Village. A 'trinity house' they call it. Google it, if you  do not know it...a Philadelphia trinity house, classic to this venerable place since Franklin was a boy. I love the multi-pane windows and the cellar made from stone. The perfect nest for a vampirino and his vampirina to find repose. 

Have you seen me on the streets? Perhaps you have? If you did, you'd remember. Some say I favor a young Antonio Banderas. The Spanish quality, I suppose. Yet others claim I mirror the one known as Adam Levine. Perhaps it is the sharp, finely drawn features. Oh, I am vain. It is an old Iberian affectation..... the matador in us all. My trim, black jeans are custom made, as are the fine, leather bootkins and everything else I place against my body. Even Sarah... for I 'created' her.....

Right now I prowl the perimeter of Rittenhouse Square, a sophisticated, urban park worthy of  Edwardian London, or belle epoch Paris. I love the way my sharp leather heels spark against the pavement...... My 'calling card,' so to speak. 

And I see them, two young things back from a visit to some warm, dark coffee bar. How delicately they skitter along the sidewalk. Hurry-hurry-hurry-hurry. Must get home and lock the door. Steam rises up from an old round, iron vent, a still working vestige of an ancient heat source. Ah, the all knowing grace of this special town. I love it so. 

One of the maidens sees me. I nod. She smiles. Her roommate laughs. But her laughter turns to heartbeats as I glide across the cobbles, arms outstretched to hug them both.

How wondrous they smell, like new-born kittens. I nuzzle she-of-the-lovely-smile, whispering secrets in her ear. To bad my ancient Spanish words elude her. Then the breath turns to a kiss...and the kiss to something more. Oh, fear not. She will not die. This is just a taste to warm my bones. Her friend snuggles closer, awaiting her turn. I part from the first one to savor the second. Then put them in a cab and send them home. Moments later, I proceed on my way...a discreet wanderer in the dark.

Will they remember me? What do you think?

The 'cowboys' will be back. The Martian tale will end. But then my time will come. Tomas de Macabea (Jonathon ben Macabi is my 'Bible name - for this one still believes) walks among you.

Please forgive me if I leave you now  to explore other thoroughfares........ Ah, the mellow byways of Philadelphia after dark.....a veritable vampire wonderland.....


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