SATURDAY NIGHT

He’s following that smell. He doesn’t know what it is but it kills his nostrils and numbs his body. He’s moving towards it like hypnotized. Towards the source. To what tricky tickles his mood. It’s the night. It is that specific night of the week that you feel it different. Spring time in the city. Lights, energy, glances, sensuality, bitter orange blossom. It is his night. He will rub himself at the naked women’s legs, he will almost beg for the caresses of slightly scented hands or even the more innocent ones with the bitten nails. He will feel the tender callings coming out of the vividly colored lips, maybe recentlykissed, only for him.

He will follow four legged females who don’t give a damn about him but also mysterious, lonely two leggedones who will talk to him with affection. He will enthusiastically shake his tail when he adventurously finds helpless cats in dark alleys. Everything is out there. Friends in the streets, youngsters strolling, shy toucheson first dates, laughs, defusing, talks that have a beginning but not an end. Saturday night in the city he calls home with his ephemeral loves, his vagrancies, thefood he finds or at least he knows where to go to be served, his outdoor mattress, the never ending road. And it is that same road that he gets to share now. Homemade carton mattresses and used blankets, invisible people that will go to sleep tightly holding him for warmth andcomfort. Some times to even draw fear away. Looking for small treasures in garbage cans with or without dignity. Dark helpless looks. Stray people just like him. Saturday night in the city that changes its habits and images but not the scent. Everything is out there.