The Lizard

The Lizard by Zofia Barisas

I met a lizard in my kitchen this morning.
The sun played on the barstools and the counters
And on the kitchen table
Where steam rose from my coffee cup.
The lizard stood stock still, on the cool white floor,
And tilted its head,
From way down there,
And looked at me with its small right eye,
As if saying:
"Your move next."
I looked at it, wanting to tell it:
This is my domain,
Yours is the garden.
But as I used the garden also, I remained silent.
I thought of how I caught birds,
Who accidentally flew in,
And went to get a hand towel.
The lizard watched and waited for my next move.
I dropped the blue towel over it,
And grabbed it to wrap it under.
There was a mad scramble of limbs and body
And the lizard shot out and ran,
Skidding wildly on the polished tiles,
As it neared the wall under the sideboard,
And disappeared nowhere to be found,
Though I looked.

He was a medium-size lizard,
Maybe a foot long.
I thought, if he dies in the house in this hot weather,
The house will smell of his rotting flesh.
And with all the corners, crevices, book shelves,
I will not be able to find it.
The end of his tail had been broken off,
I'd noticed earlier.
Maybe he had come in for sanctuary,
From bigger lizard bullies, but I doubted it.

In the evening he ran past me,
Where I worked on the computer,
And stopped to watch me with his left eye,
Then ran behind the shelves
That held tubes of paint and brushes.
"You know,"
I said to him where he hid,
"That I allow no one in this room
When I am working."
He responded with silence.

This morning,
When I was having my second cup of coffee,
Reading about earthquakes, plane crashes and elections
In foreign lands,
He half emerged from behind the painting
Of a Russian woman
That rested on the floor across the room,
And looked at me with both eyes slightly tilted,
As if in question:
"Well?"
"I've thought about this in depth,"
I answered him.
"Since everything on earth is on loan,
I have decided we would share this house,
With courtesy and mutual respect.
No scaring one another,"
I warned him.

And this is where it stands.

I think maybe I could learn,
From living with the lizard,
To live with a man
For more than three hours on occasional nights.

But that is not the end.

This morning I sat in my armchair,
Next to the fireplace,
My back to the French windows,
Having my second cup of coffee,
Reading a book by Maurice Nicoll
About the teachings of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky.
I had forgotten the lizard.
Life goes on.
There was a recurring scraping at the window,
Palm branches in the breeze, I thought.
The doors were open to the garden.
When I got up, I saw it was the lizard,
Scratching at the window behind my seat,
Fighting to get out.
I took my red notebook,
Put it at right angles to the panes,
And gently moved it against his lizard body,
(I was aware of the intimacy of the moment)
Easing him towards the open doors,
Not three feet away.

But he fought against the advancing notebook,
Trying to squeeze in between it and glass
Back to the place where he had been.
Fought all the way, losing ground,
Till he felt open space next to him
And slithered out into the garden.

Another failed relationship.
I had misunderstood his needs.
I had used
The same method of parting
That I used with a lover
Pushing him gently out
And him fighting to remain,
Not knowing that freedom lies that a way.

I suspect he has been spreading news
Of my dubious hospitality.
I have been waking to lizards in the kitchen sink,
In the bath, in my bed, under the kitchen table.
Lizards in all sizes,
Short-term guests,
Daily replaced by others.

This is what I understand from the encounter:
I have not had a three-hour man in years,
And I'm talking to lizards.

Then I met a man,
And I fought to get back to the old place,
Between the notebook and the glass,
Afraid to get my tail broken again.
Then I thought: how about going with it?
Just to see if maybe freedom is that a way.

So you see:
It pays to talk to lizards.

Story ID:	2558
Written by:	Zofia Danute Barisas (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Ajijic Mexico
Year:	2007