blue tears

dunno whether i really wanna call this blue tears. Maybe I should call this rather 'patience and green eyes' because that's what they said their street names were.
you know, you gotta understand, this one is tough. It's not like I am going to sound accurate or anything. If I could, I would draw you a picture, draw you in. Zoom into the socks, surprisingly whitish, and the dry black skin perking out inbetween the pants and the shoes. The sweater he hurdled up at his chest, where the heart is, and the rest of a coke line on his left nostril.
His eyes dwelling up when he sang this song about his mother who 'did some things not right but she had to do them and she always saw that he had toys for X-mas'. She was a hooker, his father gone. With 13 he bought her diamonds from the first street money he had earned himself. She never wanted him to go there but she knew that he had to do what he had to do just like herself. The yearning for a father who was never there, the attempt to replace this lost man in her life...
'Green eyes' nodding his head from time to time, looking straight into my eyes, relentlessly sinking deep into my heart. Looking away. Hiding his moist eyes but he couldn't he couldn't, we already had crossed the line and stood naked in front of each other. There were no masks anymore somehow, no piss stained clothes or ground mattered nor did my french barret or beautifully fucked up boots.
'Patience' had asked whether we wanted to hear a song and we, full of life-celebrating energy turned around on our heels, heading back up Yucca, to the dirty entrance hall they were dining at.
He started to sing. His voice so raw and soft in the same time, praising the woman, women in a man's life. The woman, who lifts him up and brings him down, a woman who makes him human who saves him from drowning. A woman who is worth more than anything he's ever seen but oh she can be mean. He loves women, that was for sure and we were kind of bummed out, literally, fazed by the coincidence; we were so beautiful. Women.
And green eyes, thoughtfully agreeing with him after certain lines of lyric, chewing away on his late lunch that he ate as proper as can be, with fork, knife and napkin, you see.
Sometimes he would shake his head or smile and nod with his head as if saying, yes, oh yeah, that it is. Blues, turning things around, giving a perspective to too deep a salty sea. Making you laugh in the saddest of love songs.
'God, I will sell you my soul, do anything you want me to do, but if the devil brings back my love I will sell it to him too...'
The underlying longing strong like a wild mountain current, the lack of beauty in his life, the lack of beauty in the form of a woman, the most beautiful form that there is - bursting out like water out of a rusty pipe in northern Russia in spring time.
We, mesmerized and I desperately observing, taking in, breathing in, all too aware of the contrasts, savoring them like a bum savors his last drops of liquor in a cold chilli winter night.
How they both dried their tears with stained sleeves trying to hide what makes them human - a tear that makes the sound of a smile when it hits the grey ground.
The life story told in thousand and one words, in a cascade like a waterfall, rolling over us like a relentless wave from a raging sea - the urge to be heard overwhelmingly deafening, the fear.
The blue tear.