red and blue in the sea of cortez

He could be The Jailbird's twin. My god! My heart literally slams on the brakes when I see him walk to his truck. Jeans. Cotton shirt. Cowboy hat. Close to the same build and height. Even same way of walking, a little sunk into himself.

I met him when he was talking to Mr. Texan. He said "I come down here so much, I'm thinking about buying a place."

Then I saw him again, sitting on the sea wall with his shirt off, staring out at the water. The group from Juarez was in full party mode, American rock and roll screaming from the stereo system. I laugh and say "I hope you didn't come here for peace and quiet" and he smiles and says "Isn't it great? That's why I love it here." He has The Jailbird's smile, sans the vertical gorges in his cheeks.

I decide that I'm in love with him but, alas, he's got on a wedding ring.

Last night I was talking to Mr. Texan when Jailbird's Twin walks by in red swim shorts, just up from the beach. I said "God, he's cute" and Mr. Texan said "Yeah, and he's a really nice guy."

"Too bad he's married," I say.
"He's not."
"I saw a ring."
"It's probably just a ruse."

Or something he wears when he misses his kid and his dog, I think (see "Jailbird o'Mine" in this post).

Then...wait: Red swim shorts. I run home and dig out my notebook and find this, written July 9 on Jorge's patio:

Why did the man in the sea remind me of you?
Do you have red swimming shorts?
His body, although thin, is fuller,
Maybe older.
He lacks your arms, the definition.
Biceps strung from hard shoulders.
He might be a little taller.
He has your same sticking-up gray hair
Aroused from numerous finger runnings.
He is a story-teller. I know by the way
He motions as he talks to his friend.
I bet he rolls his own cigarettes.
Clothed, he wears jeans and a cowboy hat.
I think he could be you
Visiting from a few years down the road.

I hear that the Jailbird has been set free. I assume he's in the Midwest. I don't know if he'll try to come back to the desert southwest. I don't know if I'll ever see him again. The grown-up in me says it's best not; just let him go on his way. The lonely woman says it would be okay if he came back for just a night or two. You see, in my many decades on this planet, he was the first man to ever say "i love you". Yep. Pathetic but true. And I liked the way he said it, like he couldn't help himself. He'd be walking away and the words would fall out of his mouth, "I love you." Then he'd smile and say "Dang, I didn't mean to say that; I meant to say have a good night." And I'd call him back and put my arms around him and say "i love you, too" although I only loved part of him but I couldn't very well say "I love part of you."

So, even though he was the first man to say "i love you", and the last, I sure hope he won't be THE last.