Barcelona: Great. White. Buffalo.

Another morning in Barcelona.  The days have trickled into something new.  No longer a thought of what we'll do today, what we will see.  Now it was more a sense, of when did we want to do something.  A subtle crossover as the place we presently resided was no longer a tourist stop, but a home.  The place we come back to at the end of the day or in the early, early morning on that first train out of the city.  Where we smoked our weed on the porch and sunk back into that familiar white sofa to watch Spanish action movies with Papa.  And Mother watched while we cooked, and told us how she did things in that smiling, exuberant way she always has about herself.  And in the mornings we lazily ate the giant chocolate-chip cereal with milk and Granini and then were on our way.

Into the city again!  Oh, Barcelona!  But first the train, it's a half-mile away.  Down the stairs and out the gate we turn left and trot the steps off towards San Cugat station, always more merrily than we had the day before.  And the talk changed too.  Less and less about what exactly where we were going - we knew that now (Las Ramblas, as always), and we knew how to get there - and more about what was happening.  To us.  In our lives, and with who.  Not directly, maybe.  It is not, consciously, the pursued subject of interest.  It's just the conversation that comes, I suppose, when you're in that comfort zone.  That comfortable place.  Home.  But certainly not the only.

We had another life besides this one, and when the shock of new surroundings is gone, you remember.  We did.  On another hot, muggy day in August Spain, trotting the travelers trot, strong steps on sure legs.  Family.  Friends.  Girlfriends.  Ex-girlfriends.  No girlfriends.

"Monster's chillin'.  Saw her last night.  On the Skype.  Ughh, this is too long.  I can't wait to see her."  Max was lovingly seduced by that girl.  Mind and heart filled.  His hot red-headed skinny little firecracker, with a wild blue in her eyes.  My silly sis roommate.  Matured past the years in that freckled face, or so she'd have you believe.  With Max's emerald greens, that offspring would pop be handsome and tall and have a beautiful set of soul windows.  

"How's BB?"

"Santa Cruz is miserable she says, hahaa!  It's cold and overcast, and she was all wrapped up in hoodies and blankets in the cave when I talked to her.  Boom left.  He's back in Cleveland and it's just her and the rando's now.  I miss herrr." Grant loved her.  We all did, really.  And the same with Monster.  But for Max and Grant it was something more.  And special.  And Grant and BB made their picture timeless and pretty.  With that pinch of hippy vintage and a headband with Ray Bans.  And they were each other's missing full length mirrors.  

"Kathleen keeps talking to me."

"Well, what about Jackie?"

Mike half-laughs and smiles at the retort and looks away.  So it is and always has been.  Seduced by the Prince.  The one's that want you have that look on their face like you're the world to them, nervous because they're so afraid to lose you.  But your eyes are always off in the distance.  A hunter's eyes, scanning the horizon for that immortal foe.  The beast that you had, then got away.  The attractions in the her calm, steel gaze when she turns to you and smiles and you don't know if it's good or bad, but you feel like you've met your match.  "Dude, why do you still talk to that crazy?"  "What?! She's my great white buffalo, guys, c'mon.  Brian's got one."

"Great white buffalo..." we all whisper and look into the distance.  

Haa, that pretty, little bastard.

"Oh, does he?  But I thought you never had a girlfriend?"  Max is intrigued.

"Yeah, Brian why is that?  You've never had a girlfriend?"  Now Grant's in too.

I don't know why, but it's these moments that give me the most pause, I think, especially with the Hot Tub Time Machine preface.  When I look back and see the gap.  The hole where nothing's been, and how more and more guarded it's become along the way.  That point of weakness I protect.  People know, but it's always a point on which to prove myself.  Could I be so wrong?  And yet there's not a soul I can think of who's not had that relationship by now at whatever age.  No, there must be some meaning.  Some reason for such a devolved existence.  One with no close loves.  I had one great one, with a few grand lusts.  And I suppose that's the problem.  The stunning grandiosity of it all to me.  That Great White Buffalo.  The queen of the open plains.  The most beautiful thing you've ever laid between your sights.  The most cunning.  The beast a lesser man might dream as an enviable trophy.  I could never.  I'm not much of a hunter.  My walls and corridors of the mind aren't lined with mounted faces.  Gripping memories of the hunt's all I have.  But she was close.  So close that I could touch her and when she alerted and saw my presence, I still hadn't lost my chance.  She looked at me forever, and maybe her wisdom sparked curiosity at why I didn't shoot.  And still, I didn't shoot.  No, I reached out with my hand and with one finger pushed those brown strands in her face to the side.  I'd never seen a more beautiful look in a pair of eyes before, dark brown and behind them as well, and they breathed excited and studied me on the pillow next to mine and I was in love.  And she loved me.  Such an awe-inspiring feeling.  

In reality - and oh, how I hated such realities - she lived on the opposite side of the country.  And the next time I saw her I pushed her away with some invisible envy.  I pushed and I pushed and pretty soon she stopped holding on.  She was smart.  And she was beautiful and charming and she was found and held with intrigue by another.  But before this, I stowed a piece of myself away with her, that maybe she didn't know about.  Something about me that I didn't really know myself until it was too late; she was everything I'd ever wanted.  

And now that's all I look for.  That thing that fills the hole weakness, fits like a stopper, and makes my heart race and my soul smile.  Everything I want.  She's just so hard to find now.  My Great White Buffalo.